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Leila’s little toy slipped from her hand as she scooted closer to Noah, her soft voice breaking through his sobs.

“Don’t cry…” she whispered, her small fingers brushing his wet cheek clumsily. Her big eyes blinked up at him, steady and calm .

Noah hiccupped between tears, clutching at his little shirt. “I—I’m scared of the dark,” he admitted, voice trembling, his words barely more than a squeak. His shoulders shook as the shadows stretched around them.

Leila tilted her head, lips curving in the faintest, brave smile. “I’m four,” she said matter-of-factly, “and I’m not scared. Here is always dark.”

Her tiny statement carried a strange, heartbreaking maturity. She nudged her toy toward him.

Noah sniffled, his bottom lip trembling. “I’m five…” he mumbled, voice cracking. “But I hate the dark. I—I wanna go to Mommy.” His chest hitched, his words dissolving into another sob.

Leila reached out again, slipping her little hand into his. “It’s okay. You got me,” she whispered, holding on tight like only a child could, fearless in her innocence.

Noah rubbed at his teary eyes with his small fists, his voice breaking as he leaned closer to Leila. His toy car rested forgotten beside him.

“Hey…” he whispered, almost like a secret, “my Daddy will come… right?” His eyes glistened, wide with that desperate kind of hope only a child could hold onto.

Leila blinked at him, then picked up her doll and made it walk across the floor, her way of calming him. “Of course,” she said softly, as though it was the most obvious thing. “Daddies always come.”

Noah swallowed hard, hugging his knees. “But… but what if he doesn’t? His little voice cracked, shaky.

Leila’s doll tumbled into his lap. “Then your Daddy will break the door,” she answered firmly, her childlike certainty unwavering. “My Daddy always said superheroes smash the bad guys. You said your Daddy is Superman, right?”

That brought the tiniest smile through Noah’s tears. He picked up the doll, making it jump clumsily like it was flying. “Yeah… he’s Superman,” he agreed, his tone fragile but brighter now.

Leila nodded, scooting closer until their shoulders touched. “See? Superman daddies never forget their kids.”

And for the first time since being taken, Noah let out a small laugh, the sound wobbly but real. He clutched the doll to his chest, whispering more to himself than her—

“Daddy will come.”



Nico sat back with a glass in hand, a couple of his closest friends around the table laughing and teasing about married life.

His phone buzzed once on the table. He barely glanced until the words caught his eye.

Unknown Number: Notice your son is missing or are you too busy playing super groom?

His heart froze. The glass slipped slightly in his grip before he steadied it. His gaze flicked immediately across the reception hall—Red was laughing with family, everyone distracted. Noah. Where was Noah?

He forced a polite smile, muttering, “Excuse me,” before slipping out from the table. His eyes scanned the corners, every table, every hallway near the reception. Nothing.

The phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: Fine. You didn’t see him.

A cold sweat broke over Nico’s neck as he started toward the back corridors, trying not to cause a scene. He checked the bathroom, the staff quarters, even under the tables where Noah sometimes crawled around. Panic clawed at his chest.

Another buzz.

Unknown Number: Wanna see him? Meet me at the old riverside warehouse. Alone.

Nico’s hand tightened around the phone, jaw clenching hard.

His breath stopped, anger and fear boiling together as he glanced one last time at Red—still smiling, blissfully unaware. He couldn’t drag her into this panic.

He swallowed down the rising dread, whispering under his breath.

Nico’s pulse thundered as he stared at the last message. He wanted to storm out, to run blindly to the warehouse—but his father’s words echoed in his mind: A Bellamy never rushes blind into a trap.

He pulled in a sharp breath, slipped his phone into his pocket, and forced his expression calm. Then, ducking into a quieter corner, he dialed quickly.

“This is Nico Bellamy. My son’s missing. I just got a message—riverside warehouse. Send a team. No sirens, no uniforms. Shadow me. If they see you, they’ll hurt him.”

The officer on the other end tried to steady him. “Mr. Bellamy, are you certain—”

“Do I sound like I’m uncertain?!” Nico snapped, his voice breaking with raw fear before he caught himself. He inhaled sharply. “Just… do as I say.

He ended the call, ran a hand through his hair, and straightened his jacket. His chest ached with panic. He rejoined the crowd for only a moment, brushing past Red with a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back, angel. Don’t worry.”

Then he slipped outside.

A black car was already waiting at the curb, his driver inside. Nico slid in, giving the location in clipped tones.

Behind them, at a calculated distance, two unmarked police vehicles followed, headlights dimmed, engines humming low.

Nico’s jaw tightened as the city lights blurred past. His thumb traced over Noah’s name on his phone screen.

“Hold on, buddy,” he whispered. “Daddy’s coming.”

The car rolled to a stop outside the gritty warehouse. Nico stepped out slowly, his shoes crunching against gravel.

His eyes narrowed instantly at the sight of a man leaning against a rusted pillar—dressed in black from head to toe, cigar dangling between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air.

“Well, well…” the man drawled, his smirk cutting through the shadows. “Look who finally decided to show up. The untouchable Nicolas Bellamy.” He let out a mocking laugh, flicking ash to the ground.

Nico’s jaw flexed, but his voice rang clear and sharp. “Who the hell are you?” His fists curled at his sides. “What do you want from me—and where is my son?”

The man pushed off the pillar with an easy swagger, every movement oozing arrogance. “Straight to the point, huh? Just like they said. Powerful, rich, feared… but tonight?” He leaned close, blowing a stream of smoke deliberately near Nico’s face. “Tonight you’re just another desperate daddy.”

Nico’s nostrils flared, fury simmering beneath the tight leash of control. His tone dropped, dangerous. “You’ve got three seconds to tell me where Noah is. Then I stop asking.”

The man only grinned wider, lifting the cigar like a toast. “Careful, Bellamy. You might not like who’s waiting for you inside.”