Chapter Text
*
“I hold on to these faded memories,
Is this greed?
I try to look back on these lost seasons,
I try to turn back.”
*
Kinn sat back in a stupor. Twins. Porsche…a twin? He allowed himself ten precious seconds to mull the discovery over before forcibly gathering his composure.
Tankhun’s expression settled into one of compassion. “You are speaking in the past tense?”
“Yes.”
*
August 21, 1994
The attack came from nowhere. What had begun as a brief visit to the hospital for the children, followed by a quick lunch at a cafe in the small plaza outside, had rapidly devolved into every parent’s worst nightmare.
Kiet’s ears rang as bullets shrieked across the plaza, ricocheting off the metal light fixtures that hung from the thick exposed wood beams of the gazebo-like exterior of the cafe’s outdoor patio. Tables turned over in the surge of panic from customers just trying to get away took the brunt of the fire.
“Sir, we need to go!”
A hand clasped his shoulder, hauling him backwards, off the edge of the patio—where he had been crouched behind the outdoor bar, gun drawn.
The sound of glass shattering into a million pieces followed them.
“Stay low!” The guard, Anoop, ordered, directing them toward the kitchen.
Clearing the doors, they passed a cluster of staff and several customers huddled near the fridges in the back. One of the servers Kiet recalled seeing out on the patio earlier had a phone pressed to his ear, and going by the poor man’s pale face, Kiet assumed he was calling the police.
Kiet's gaze swept across the kitchen. A wave of tension tightened his chest. His fingers clenched around the handle of his Glock, and his jaw locked so tightly that he feared his teeth might shatter.
“Where is Duanfen?” His wife had taken their children to the bathroom minutes before the attack. He hadn’t seen her since.
“Hyun-Jae has her,” Anoop assured, hand fluttering to his earpiece. “The car is out back. Come on.”
The sound of gunfire and panicked screams followed them into the alley, seeming to amplify the closer to the idling economy-class sedan they came.
*
“It’s okay, hush babies, it’s okay,” Duanfen murmured, frantically trying to soothe the squalling infants clutched to her chest. Her two precious bundles, swaddled in soft pastel blankets—in shades of purple and blue—filled her arms. “Shhh. It’s okay, darling. Papa’s coming.”
The sound of gunfire, though muffled by bullet-proof glass, only served to set her nerves further alight. Burying her nose into the soft robin’s egg blue blanket swaddling her eldest, she kissed his forehead, breathing in his sweet scent. Repeating the process with her youngest, she glanced between the empty alleyway and her husband’s right hand—Hyun-Jae, who had sequestered himself next to their driver, Hoon. The pair spoke too lowly to be overheard, but their tense expressions and wary, searching gazes down the alley were enough to make the hair on her neck stand on end.
“Jae, where is Kiet?” She asked. There was no hiding the worry in her tone.
Hyun-Jae twisted around, hand gripping the corner of Hoon’s seat for stability. His expression softened when he took in the children—the man had a soft spot for children. Her own was no exception. “Anoop is bringing him to the car.”
She noticed the dashboard cubby open, contents stacked haphazardly as though someone had riffled through in a hurry—which Hyun-Jae had. A cardboard box of ammunition had tipped on its side, highlighting the empty rack, which usually contained at least six extra magazines and at least two standard issue Glocks—standard fair for every Family car.
“Hoon, we’re closing in. Block and a half. We’ll be there in two.”
She startled at the crackle of Hoon’s radio, bringing a muffled squeak out of her eldest as her arm tightened around his tiny form.
“Make it one,” Hoon replied. “We’re sitting ducks.”
And then Kiet was there, and all she could think was, ‘Thank God.’
*
They were several blocks away from the cafe when Hoon picked up a tail—a nondescript black motorbike. Seatbelt digging into his chest and across his hips, Kiet twisted in his seat to look out the rear window.
He frowned when the bike slipped down the middle of two vehicles and weaved around another. Biting back a curse, he locked eyes with Il-Seong in the car directly behind them and made two distinct hand signals. One for ‘tail’ and the other for the number of passengers. Two. The driver nodded and grabbed his two-way radio.
“Jae, where are the extra vests?”
“In the trunk,” Hyun-Jae replied, “They’re accessible from the pass-through.”
Nodding, he twisted back around and undid his seat belt.
“What’s going on?” Duanfen whispered, eyes wide.
Kiet gave his wife what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but it felt more like a grimace. He didn’t want this for her or their children. Frankly, this shouldn’t have happened at all.
“That bike has a passenger. I don’t want to take any chances.” Flipping down the pull-out between them, Kiet reached into the trunk. He found the extra bulletproof vests exactly where Hyun-Jae had said they would be.
*
“Turn at the next set of lights.”
Staring out the window, Duanfen couldn’t help but cuddle her boys closer. The bulletproof vest was bulky and warm around her torso, and despite having worn one on multiple occasions, today, she felt awkward and stiff.
"How did they find us?"
The question had been gnawing at her mind relentlessly since the brutal and unexpected attack had commenced. Today’s trip wasn’t scheduled; neither was their location broadcast outside their guards and drivers—all of whom had worked for the family for decades. The hospital was chosen randomly, and the cafe—though convenient—had been an afterthought.
If it weren't for the persistent crying and fussiness caused by colic in their babies—something the doctor they consulted in the emergency room explained was normal in newborns—they would never have left the compound.
“I don’t know,” Kiet shook his head, shoulder-length hair fluttering around his shoulders, mouth pressed into a thin line. “But I’m going to find out.”
*
Present:
“We didn’t know it then, but the attack was a fluke. One of the nurses in the emergency room recognized Duanfen from a visit several months before.”
“That is a little…” Tankhun frowned, “unusual?”
Kiet shrugged before nodding in agreement.
“I would agree. However, the circumstances surrounding the visit were particularly crucial in this case.”
“How so?”
“Duanfen nearly suffered a miscarriage three months into the pregnancy. I was away on business at the time. My elderly parents took her to the hospital.”
Tankhun’s stomach sank. “My apologies.”
Kiet waved him away, his expression softening somewhat, although there was still an unreadable gleam in the man’s eyes. Tankhun didn’t delude himself for one moment. Twenty-eight years old or not, the loss of a child shattered something inside. Something terrible had happened—the sort of terrible that came with lifelong festering wounds and sleepless nights. The fact that he still chose to give up Porsche and Porchay in light of that almost certainly destroyed him.
Kinn cleared his throat lightly, breaking the awkward atmosphere almost immediately. “The nurse?”
“Was on duty that night,” Kiet confirmed mildly. “My father spoke with her when they arrived.”
“I see.” Kinn appeared thoughtful yet puzzled.
“We interrogated her once we had figured out she was the catalyst—”
“—how?” Tankhun couldn’t fault his lover for asking. Tipping his head back slightly, he took in Arm’s apologetic yet curious expression as the man settled directly behind him. “Sorry.” He adjusted his glasses.
Rather than offended, Kiet seemed amused. The man’s eyes met his before dropping to the table’s edge, which hid their linked fingers. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze turned into a knowing one. Tankhun almost thought the man approved.
“After ruling out moles and reviewing our security with a fine-toothed comb, we extended our search to the only two locations we had visited that day.”
“The hospital and the cafe.”
“The hospital and the cafe,” Kiet agreed, gangwon accent colouring his tone. “The nurse in question happened to be the sister of one of your Father’s men.”
Kinn’s mouth dropped. Vegas scowled but otherwise appeared unsurprised.
“We still aren’t entirely certain how Korn attained a photograph of my father. However, the image was circulated underground in Seoul. When we arrived that morning, the nurse recognized Duanfen as a daughter-in-law of a high-profile target—her brother’s words.”
“She informed him.”
Kiet nodded. “Indeed. Rumours began circulating in certain circles, and the underground activity level exploded overnight.”
In other words, Papa put a hit out. Tankhun thought grimly.
“How were you not recognized?” Vegas asked. “If our Father had any idea…”
‘He would have killed Porsche long before now’ was left unsaid but universally agreed upon.
Kiet’s lips twitched. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.”
Iseul coughed into his fist, trying and failing to hide a tiny smile.
Tankhun observed one of the guards—Hyun-Jae if he recalled correctly—standing behind the pair, rolling his eyes in exasperation before stepping forward casually.
“He set himself up as a bodyguard.”
*
Past:
October 3, 1994
Staring out the frost-encrusted window of his father’s office, Kiet wished he could start the day again. Perhaps things would have played out differently. Perhaps…
How could everything go so wrong so damn quickly?
Kiet’s fists clenched behind his back as grief surged like a tidal wave over the open wound he had the misfortune of calling a heart. He wanted to howl and scream at the injustice of it all, echoing the gale-force winds whipping around the outside of the house, rattling windows and divesting the trees lining the backyard of the last of their leaves.
But he couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.
Sagging against the windowsill, temple pressed to the chilled glass, Kiet turned to his wife. Duanfen occupied the loveseat in the corner of his father’s former office. A soft grey blanket draped around her shoulders, hiding most of her form—including the child in her arms—from view.
She hadn’t let Porsche out of her sight in hours. Not that Kiet blamed her.
The attack had been vicious and, worse still, unexpected.
Turning to his father’s desk, he swallowed bitterly. It could have been so much worse. I could have lost them all.
Yut had passed five and a half months ago in an inferno of gasoline and crumpled metal. The police ruled the accident as just that—an accident. The transport truck that had hit Yut's car, wrapping the Mercedes around a light post, had lost its breaks.
The police had failed to find anything suspicious. Kiet's men, however, had traced the entire tragedy back to Korn Theerapanyakun. The driver, who had walked away with nothing more than a year in prison for accidental vehicular manslaughter, had received nearly three million Baht just hours before the accident.
When will it end?
Moving swiftly across the room, covering the distance in just six strides, Kiet settled on the armrest of the loveseat. Burying his nose into Duanfen’s hair, he ignored the trickle of tears rebelliously escaping down his cheeks.
Papa, could we have prevented this somehow? Did I make a mistake?
"What should we do, Kiet?"
Peering through his lashes, Kiet took in his mother. Blood stained the side of her face and dotted the collar of her blouse. One of her sleeves had been cut away. A guard sat at her side on the sofa across the room, a first aid kit propped open on the coffee table beside them, carefully stitching the wound in the meat above her elbow.
"He's never come so close."
Duanfen trembled.
Squeezing her shoulder lightly, Kiet nodded. “Hyun-Jae is booking us tickets to Spain, and I’ve instructed Cheng-ze to pack up shop. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“How many times haven’t we run, Kiet?” Duanfen asks, her voice light. There was a watery sheen to her bloodshot eyes, rims red. She adjusted her hold on Porsche, tucking him into her shoulder. A tiny blood-flecked fist peeked from the blanket.
He knew Duanfen was upset. When Yut passed, they had uprooted their lives, leaving the small compound just outside of Seoul and returning to Kiet’s childhood home on the outskirts of Pyeongchang. This would be their third move in two years.
“What other option do we have?” Naak hissed. The guard murmured a soft ‘sorry,’ dropped the needle into a waiting dish, and grabbed the bandage. “The likelihood of a repeat attack is high, should we stay.” She turned to Kiet. “I suppose Marseilles is expecting us?”
“Of course. He is graciously lending us La Rosa de la Luna for the foreseeable future. He’s off to Belarus for eight months, so we have free rein.”
Duanfen scowled, the blanket slipping down her shoulders as she sat up. “And what if he finds us there? We lost three men today. Mama was injured! Porsche could have died…” her breath hitched. Choking down a sob, she shook her head. “Ananda died, Kiet. Ananda died! My baby is gone!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Fen.” His heart ached, and his soul wept inconsolably.
*
Present:
Curling into Kim’s arms until he could feel his boyfriend’s heartbeat through his back, Porchay stared at Kiet’s weary face on the too-small tablet screen and struggled to breathe.
“Ananda was Porsche’s elder brother. We lost him—”
“Turn it off. Please?” He hated how his voice cracked.
“—in the chaos of the attack—”
Macau hesitantly asked, 'Are you sure?' as he took the device from Kim's hand. With a flick of his finger, he closed the live feed, cutting off Kiet's explanation mid-sentence.
Chay nodded and let his eyes slip closed while Kim's fingers began to comb through his hair. An uneasy silence filled the balcony for several long, drawn-out seconds before Macau cleared his throat. “I’m going to go.”
“To your room,” Kim murmured. “Big will take you. Give him the tablet before Arm decides to use you for target practice.”
“But—”
Chay didn’t bother opening his eyes. He could practically see the protest on Macau’s face, which most likely turned into a look of resignation seconds later.
“Fine.” A quiet huff and the clang of feet on the ladder rungs signalled the other teen’s hasty exit.
Twisting in Kim’s arms, Chay tucked his face into the hollow of his boyfriend’s throat.
“Did you know?”
“About Ananda?” Kim’s arms curled around his waist. “No. There was no mention of him in my Father’s files.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Chay bit his lip before asking, “Do you think he knew?”
“I don’t know.”
*
Stomach rolling, Kinn swallowed back the wave of bile crawling up his throat. He wanted to vomit. Tankhun didn’t look much better.
In all honesty, Kan was the only person in the room—besides Iseul, Kiet and his men, who seemed nonplussed by the account.
“You knew.” The accusation tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.
Kan nodded.
“Son-of-a—” Pete forcefully pushed Vegas back into his chair by the shoulder before he could launch himself across the conference table.
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Before his uncle could open his mouth to reply, Kinn turned to Tankhun. “How are we supposed to tell Porchay?”
*
Chay drifted in a haze of Kim’s scent and the exhaustion of a good cry. He didn’t want to move—because moving meant facing reality. Peeking under his lashes, Chay stared at the hand resting on his stomach. Kim’s fingers were long and calloused from hours spent in his studio and decades of weapons training. Tracing a tiny pockmarked scar on the side of Kim’s hand with his fingers, he sighed.
“How are you feeling?” Kim’s chest rumbled under Chay’s ear.
Shrugging halfheartedly, Chay allowed his eyes to slip closed again. He wanted to hide.
Kim wouldn’t let him.
“None of that now.” Fingers brushed his chin before cupping his face and tipping his head back. Lips brushed his forehead.
Eyes snapping open, Porchay met Kim’s warm gaze and flushed.
“There we go.”
That smile should be illegal.
Not for the first time, Chay swore he could get lost in the other man’s eyes.
“Now, how are you feeling?”
“Lost. Sad… angry.”
He was angry that his family had been torn apart because of one man and his sadistic need to cause pain. Furious that his biological parents thought hiding them—abandoning them—was the only way to keep them safe.
His eyes burned. “I hate him.”
Kim’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who, baby?”
“Your Father.”
*
“There’s no need,” Pete announced quietly, holding his cell phone up.
Snagging the device from his lover’s hand with a frown, Vegas groaned. “Macau borrowed one of the security tablets. They heard everything.”
Tankhun’s head fell into his hands.
*
Past:
October 3, 1994, continued.
“What do you want to do?”
“What can we do?” Kiet asked, carding his fingers through Duanfen’s hair. His wife slept fitfully, curled into the fetal position, head in his lap, Porsche tucked to her chest. “It’s too dangerous to stay.”
Iseul nodded, eyes flitting to Porsche before slipping back to the roaring fireplace across the room. Tongues of fire snapped, crackled and popped as it devoured the log in its clutches.
“Spain is as good a choice as any. It’ll give us time to regroup and to…grieve.”
“He’ll never stop.” Duanfen’s ragged whisper kissed Kiet’s ears.
Staring into the fireplace, Kiet struggled to retain his composure, biting his tongue to keep from replying with a helpless, ‘I know.’
*
Present:
Kinn did his best to wrap the meeting up as quickly as possible. Despite having more questions than answers, what they had learned already was enough to make his head and heartache. He was grateful when Consigliere Chan suggested continuing at a later date and relieved when everyone agreed.
Scrubbing a hand down his face, he sighed. What an absolute clusterfuck.
“I have the sudden urge to piss on the old man’s grave,” Vegas grumbled, rounding the conference table with a frown firmly affixed to his face.
“Get in line.” Tankhun’s nose twitched in disgust.
Snorting, Kinn grabbed his leather-bound journal from the table and stood. “I suppose it’s better than shooting Uncle Kan.”
Vegas scowled, shooting an annoyed glare across the room as the man in question stood quietly conversing with Iseul and Kiet near the door. “Don’t even get me started. I can’t believe he didn’t say anything.”
“Not totally unexpected,” Tankhun groused lightly, “When have you ever known the man to be anything other than tight-lipped? It’s par for the course by now.”
Vegas couldn’t argue against that, and Kinn didn’t even begin to try.
Clearing his throat, Kinn glanced pensively at Kiet's tall form. "Should we take him to see Porsche?"
*
Porsche was asleep again.
Chay couldn’t help but feel relieved.
Relieved because it meant he wouldn’t have to try and find the words to explain why a man who looked so much like Porsche stood beside the bed like an apparition. Chay still wasn’t sure if he had cooked the man up in a fever dream.
Nibbling his lip, he observed Kiet warily. The man cupped the side of Porsche’s face with a measure of gentleness that seemed to undo the knots tangled in Chay’s gut.
Squeezing Kim’s hand one last time, Chay sucked in a soft breath and stepped into the room, leaving his cousins and boyfriend to stand guard in the corridor.
Chay's stomach fluttered with butterflies as he tiptoed across the room. The gentle flutters turned into a frantic dance when Kiet’s soft, suspiciously wet eyes finally met his.
“Hello.”
*
END VOL 1.