Kieran's POV
Storm's question hit me like a punch to the chest.
"Mama, why does that Alpha smell like me?"
My four-year-old son stared up at me with those gray eyes—Ashton's eyes—waiting for an answer I couldn't give. Not here. Not now. Not ever.
Ashton heard him. I watched his face go white, watched him take a step forward like he had any right to come closer to my children.
"Don't," I warned, my voice sharp enough to cut. "Don't you dare take another step."
But Sage was already crying. My baby girl pressed her face against my leg, her whole body shaking. She could feel the tension crackling in the air like lightning before a storm. Omegas were sensitive like that, even young ones. She knew something bad was happening.
"Mama?" Storm tugged my hand, confused and scared now. "Mama, what's wrong?"
Everything. Everything was wrong.
Ashton stood there with his stupid flowers scattered around his feet, staring at my children like he'd just discovered treasure he'd thrown away. His hands were shaking. Good. He should shake. He should fall apart completely.
"Kieran, please—" His voice cracked. "We need to talk. Those children—"
"Are none of your business." I scooped Sage into my arms. She buried her wet face in my neck, little fingers gripping my shirt. "Storm, hold Mama's hand. We're leaving."
"Wait!" Ashton moved to block our path. Big mistake.
My Omega instincts roared to life—protect the pups, eliminate the threat. I felt my scent spike, sharp and dangerous, the smell of an Omega protecting his young. Storm and Sage both whimpered.
"You're scaring them," I said coldly. "Is that what you want? To terrify children you don't even know?"
"I'm their father!"
The words exploded out of him, desperate and raw. People around us stopped to stare. Someone pulled out their phone, already recording. Perfect. Let them record. Let the whole world see what Ashton Cross really was.
"You're a sperm donor," I corrected, my voice deadly calm even though rage was boiling under my skin. "A father shows up. A father cares. A father doesn't humiliate his pregnant Omega in front of everyone and then disappear for five years."
Ashton's face went gray. "You were pregnant? At the gala?"
"Six weeks." I smiled, and it felt like broken glass. "I was going to tell you that night. Remember? The night you called our relationship 'inappropriate' and 'a mistake you were correcting'? I was six weeks pregnant with your twins, Ashton. And you destroyed me anyway."
He swayed like I'd hit him. "I didn't know—"
"Because you didn't want to know!" My control shattered. Five years of pain came pouring out. "You wanted me gone, so I left! You wanted to forget I existed, so I made it easy! And now you show up with flowers thinking what? That I'd just forgive you? That my children would magically want you?"
"Mama, you're squeezing too tight," Sage whimpered.
I immediately loosened my hold, kissing her hair. "Sorry, baby. Mama's sorry."
Storm was watching Ashton with an expression too serious for a four-year-old. "You made Mama sad," he said, his little voice sharp. "You're a bad Alpha."
Ashton looked like Storm had stabbed him. "I'm not—I didn't mean—"
"Papa Darius never makes Mama cry," Storm continued. His protective instincts were already showing, just like an Alpha pup. "Papa Darius is nice. You're mean."
"Papa?" Ashton repeated the word like it was poison. "You let another Alpha—"
"I let a good man love my children while you were busy living your perfect life," I snapped. "Darius has been there for every nightmare, every fever, every milestone. He reads bedtime stories and teaches Storm chess and braids Sage's hair. What have you done? Nothing. You've done nothing."
"I didn't know they existed!"
"And whose fault is that?" I was shaking now, years of anger finally unleashing. "I gave you everything, Ashton. My heart, my body, my future. And you threw it all away like garbage. So yes, they're yours biologically. Your eyes in Storm's face. Your stubborn chin on Sage. But biology doesn't make you their father. It just makes you the man who abandoned us."
Where was Darius? He should have been back with our luggage by now. I needed him. I needed his steady presence, his calm strength.
As if summoned by my thoughts, I heard his voice. "Kieran?"
Relief crashed over me. I turned to see Darius striding toward us, pushing our luggage cart. He took one look at the situation—Ashton hovering too close, me clutching the twins, the scattered roses—and his expression went cold.
"What's happening here?" Darius moved beside me, protective but not possessive. He understood I could fight my own battles. He was just backup.
"This Alpha made Mama cry!" Storm announced, pointing at Ashton. "And he smells weird. Like me but wrong."
Darius's eyes widened slightly. Then his gaze locked on Ashton. Understanding dawned, followed by barely controlled fury.
"You," Darius said quietly. Too quietly. "You're him."
Ashton straightened, his Alpha rising to meet the challenge. "I'm the children's father."
"You're nothing." Darius's voice was ice. "Kieran, take the twins. I'll handle this."
But I wasn't ready to leave. Not yet. Not when Ashton was finally seeing what he'd lost.
"Do you want to know their names?" I asked Ashton sweetly, viciously. "The children you never met? Storm and Sage. Born February 14th at 3:47 AM. Storm came first, screaming. Sage was quiet, so tiny I was terrified she wouldn't survive. I was alone in that hospital room, Ashton. Completely alone while you were—what? Celebrating your freedom?"
Tears were streaming down Ashton's face now. "Kieran, please—"
"Storm loves chess and astronomy. Sage loves painting and music. They're brilliant and kind and perfect. And you'll never really know them. Because even if you somehow worm your way into their lives, they'll always remember that you didn't want us. That we weren't worth fighting for."
I turned to leave. Darius took Sage from my arms so I could walk easier, and Storm gripped my hand tight.
That's when Ashton did something stupid.
He grabbed my arm.
Three things happened at once:
Darius's fist connected with Ashton's jaw, sending him stumbling back.
Storm screamed, "Don't touch Mama!"
And Sage—my sweet, gentle Sage—looked at Ashton with her honey-gold eyes and said clearly, "I hate you."
Security was running toward us now. Airport police. Too many witnesses with phones recording. This was about to become a media nightmare.
"We're leaving," Darius said firmly, his hand on my back guiding me away. "Now, Kieran."
But as we walked away, I heard Ashton call out desperately: "I have rights! Those are my children! I'll prove it! I'll take you to court if I have to!"
I stopped. Turned. And smiled.
"Try it," I said softly. "Take me to court. Let's see how judges react when they learn you publicly humiliated your pregnant Omega, abandoned your mate bond, and ignored your children for five years. Let's make this very, very public, Ashton. I dare you."
His face went white.
We made it through security, to the car, buckled the twins into their seats. Storm was still crying. Sage had gone silent, which was worse. Darius drove, his jaw tight with anger.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number: "You can't keep me from them. I'm filing for emergency custody tomorrow. I don't care what it costs or what I have to expose. Those children are mine."
Then another message: "P.S. My mother wants to meet her grandchildren. She's very insistent. You remember how persuasive my mother can be."
My blood turned to ice.
Lyanna Cross. The woman who'd orchestrated my destruction. The woman who'd threatened to destroy my family's remaining reputation if I didn't disappear.
She knew about the twins now.
And she was coming for them.