Two five-year-old twins were left on a bench at O’Hare without a kiss, without a goodbye, and without anyone turning back to see if they were crying.

An hour later, an unmarked black SUV with blacked-out ballistic glass pulled into the subterranean garage of my estate in Lake Forest, Illinois.

The Steel Manor wasn't just a home; it was a fortress. Built on thirty acres of wooded land surrounded by an eight-foot reinforced wall, thermal cameras, and a round-the-clock team of security professionals, it was the safest place on the Eastern Seaboard.

I carried Owen, who had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, while Marco carried Lily, who refused to let go of his tactical vest.

"Is this your castle?" Lily asked in a whisper as we walked through the massive double mahogany doors into the grand foyer.

"It's our home now," I corrected gently, setting Owen down on a plush velvet sofa in the main living room. "At least, for as long as you want it to be."

My housekeeper, Mrs. Gable—a warm, elderly woman who had taken care of me since I was a rebellious twenty-year-old—came bustling out of the kitchen with a tray of hot soup, warm cookies, and fresh blankets.

"Oh, the poor darlings," Mrs. Gable murmured, her eyes softening instantly at the sight of the children. "Look at them. They're exhausted."

"Get them fed and into the master guest suite, Mrs. Gable," I said softly. "Set up two beds in the same room. They shouldn't be separated right now."

"Of course, Mr. Steel."

While Mrs. Gable gently tended to the twins, I walked down the hall to my private study. Marco was already inside, plugging the gold micro-drive into an air-gapped terminal—a computer completely isolated from the internet to prevent tracing or hacking.

"What's on it, Marco?" I asked, pouring myself two fingers of rye whiskey and leaning against the edge of my oak desk.

"Julian was smart, Ryker," Marco said, his fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard. "He wasn't just an engineer for Apex Global Defense; he was their chief auditor. This drive contains three terabytes of encrypted audio logs, banking transactions, and blueprints."

"Blueprints for what?"

"Illegal autonomous weapons sales to unsanctioned cartels and foreign paramilitaries," Marco replied, his face darkening as the data populated the monitors. "And guess who the chief executive of Apex Global is?"

"Victor Vance," I said, the realization settling like lead in my stomach. "Julian's older brother."

"Julian found out his own brother was selling weaponized drones on the black market," Marco explained, zooming in on an email thread dated two weeks before Julian's death. "When Julian threatened to go to the Department of Justice, Victor had his boat wired with C4. Then Victor bought off Evelyn—paid her two million dollars to secure the kids and find this drive."

"Evelyn wasn't just abandoning them," I said, my teeth grinding together. "She was delivering them to Victor once she found out where the drive was hidden."

"Precisely. And now that Victor knows you have the kids and the drive, he's going to throw everything he has at this house."

I took a slow sip of whiskey, watching the security camera feeds on my wall monitor. The iron gates at the perimeter were locked. My men were positioned at every vantage point.

"Let him come," I said quietly. "Julian gave his life to protect these kids and expose his brother. I'm going to finish what he started."

A soft knock sounded at the study door.

I turned to see Lily standing in the doorway, dressed in an oversized white T-shirt Mrs. Gable had found for her. She was dragging a heavy feather duvet behind her, her thumb tucked loosely into her mouth.

"Ryker?" she whispered.

I immediately set my glass down and walked over, dropping to one knee. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Can't sleep?"

"Owen is having a bad dream," she said, her eyes brimming with tears. "He thinks the beige lady is coming back to leave us again."

My chest tighted with a mix of grief and fury. I scooped her up into my arms, carrying her easily against my shoulder.

"Nobody is taking you anywhere, Lily," I told her, my voice low and unwavering. "Not the beige lady, not bad men, not anyone. You and Owen are staying with me."

We walked back into the guest room, where Owen was tossing frantically under the covers, clutching his mended stuffed bear. I sat down on the edge of the mattress, pulled Lily into my lap, and rested a hand on Owen’s forehead.

"Owen," I whispered.

The little boy opened his eyes, his breathing ragged. "Ryker?"

"Look at me," I said. "I used to serve with your dad. He was the bravest man I ever knew. And do you know what he told me?"

Owen shook his head, wiping a tear with his sleeve.

"He told me that if anything ever happened to him, I had to make sure his two brave little soldiers were taken care of. That's my job now. And I never fail a mission."

Owen looked from me to his sister, then down at the bear. "Promise?"