12.

Noah woke up to the soft glow of morning light seeping through his curtains. His body ached, his skin tingling with a lingering heat that made his breath hitch the moment he moved. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he became acutely aware of the soreness in his neck, his collarbones, his chest—everywhere Kieran’s lips had touched.

Slowly, he sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. His gaze drifted down to his bare skin, and his stomach clenched at the sight. Dark bruises, deep bites, and possessive marks littered his pale flesh. Some were light and teasing, others deep and bruising, as if Kieran had wanted to brand him, to make sure he never forgot.

Noah swallowed hard, heat crawling up his neck. He brought his fingers to one of the bites on his shoulder, wincing slightly as he traced over the indents. It looked almost… animalistic. His stomach twisted at the thought, but an undeniable shiver ran down his spine.

Shaking his head, he threw the covers off and forced himself out of bed. He couldn’t think about this—not now. Not when he had to get ready for school, when he had to face the day like everything was normal.

His legs were weak as he made his way to the bathroom, stripping off the rest of his clothes. Stepping in front of the mirror, his breath hitched at the full sight of himself. His entire body looked ruined, claimed. The worst part was the way his heart fluttered at the thought.

“Stop it,” he whispered to himself, gripping the sink to steady his trembling hands.

He had to focus. Had to forget. Had to pretend Kieran Wolfe wasn’t sinking his claws into him so deeply that escape felt impossible.

With a deep breath, he turned on the shower and stepped inside, hoping the scalding water would wash away the ghost of Kieran’s touch.

*******

---kieran's pov:-

Kieran woke up to the soft glow of morning light spilling through his bedroom window, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of last night. He smirked to himself, recalling the way Noah had come undone beneath him, so easily, so perfectly his.

But his moment of satisfaction was shattered the second he stepped out of his room.

The air in the house felt different. Tainted.

Then he heard it. That voice.

“Did you miss me, little brother?”

Kieran’s jaw clenched, his body tensing like a predator sensing a rival on its territory.

Nathaniel Smith.

The bastard had returned.

His arrogant, smug stepbrother—the son of his pathetic stepmother and her first husband—stood in the grand living room, dressed in a tailored suit like he owned the damn place. He always did this. Wore wealth and power like a second skin, flashing an insincere smirk that made Kieran want to carve it off his face.

“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” Kieran muttered, his voice low, dangerous.

Nathaniel merely chuckled, pouring himself a drink from their father’s expensive whiskey collection, like he hadn’t been gone for years. “Come on, Kieran. Is that any way to greet family?”

“You’re not my family.”

Nathaniel sipped his drink, unfazed. “Well, legally, I am. Whether you like it or not.”

Kieran’s fingers twitched. He wanted to wrap them around Nathaniel’s throat. Squeeze until that smirk vanished. Until those cold, calculating eyes held fear instead of amusement.

Nathaniel had always been the golden child. The one Richard Wolfe tolerated.

And now, he was back.

“What do you want?” Kieran growled.

Nathaniel’s smirk widened. “Oh, I just came to see how my dear little brother is doing. And maybe… cause a little trouble while I’m at it.”

Kieran’s grip tightened into a fist. He didn’t know why Nathaniel had come back now, but one thing was clear—this wasn’t a coincidence.

And whatever his stepbrother was planning, Kieran wasn’t going to let it happen.

*****

---

Backstory:-

Kieran had been eight years old when his world shattered.

His mother had been everything to him—gentle hands that smoothed his hair, a soft voice that read him bedtime stories, warm arms that shielded him from the coldness of his father’s world. But sickness took her too soon, leaving a gaping wound in Kieran’s heart that never truly healed.

His father, Richard Wolfe, had mourned. For a time, Kieran had believed he wasn’t alone in his grief. But then, less than a year later, Richard remarried. And that was when everything changed.

Victoria Laurent was everything his mother wasn’t. Cold. Beautiful. A former model who dripped elegance but had a heart made of ice. She was rich in her own right, but it was never enough. She wanted more—power, control, the Wolfe empire.

And she brought her son with her. Nathaniel.

Nathaniel, who was older. Nathaniel, who was charming, cunning, and just as greedy as his mother.

Kieran had been too young to understand at first. His father still loved him, still called him his heir, but Victoria and Nathaniel seeped into their lives like poison. His father never saw it—how Victoria tightened her grip on their family, how she whispered venom in Richard’s ear, how Nathaniel slowly began to undermine him in every way.

Nathaniel was a master of deception. To their father, he was a perfect son—polite, responsible, ambitious. But when Richard wasn’t looking, he was something else entirely.

Kieran remembered the first time he realized what Nathaniel was.

He had been ten. Victoria had left a priceless vase near the staircase, a trap waiting to be sprung. Kieran had barely brushed against it before it shattered into pieces.

The moment Victoria’s sharp voice rang through the halls, Nathaniel was there.

“Father, I saw everything,” Nathaniel had said, his voice so smooth, so convincing. “Kieran broke it on purpose.”

Richard had frowned but didn’t look at Kieran with anger. “It was just a mistake.”

Victoria, though, had played her role well. She didn’t push too hard, not yet. She just sighed, smiled sadly, and said, “Boys will be boys.”

And that was how it started. Small things, little lies, planted carefully like seeds. Over time, Richard became more reliant on Victoria. More willing to believe Nathaniel’s words. More blind.

By the time Kieran turned thirteen, he understood the truth: his stepmother and stepbrother were bleeding his father dry. They used his love, his trust, his wealth, and still, they weren’t satisfied.

But no matter how much they whispered in Richard’s ear, no matter how much they wanted control—he never changed his mind about one thing.

Kieran would always be his heir.

And that was the one thing Victoria and Nathaniel could never forgive.

They didn’t just want power. They wanted Kieran gone.

So they made his life hell. Lies turned into manipulation. Accidents turned into carefully crafted punishments. His father, though he loved him, never saw the truth. Kieran was blamed for things he didn’t do. His reputation was tarnished, his anger used against him.

And Nathaniel? Nathaniel just smirked through it all.

He would lean close, whispering, “You don’t deserve any of this, little brother. One day, they’ll see you for what you really are. A mistake.”

Kieran learned to fight back. Learned to be ruthless. If he was going to survive, he had to be stronger, smarter, more vicious than them.

And he was.

By the time he turned eighteen, he had clawed his way into power. He was feared, respected, untouchable. No one could control him—not his stepmother, not Nathaniel.

But now Nathaniel was back.

And Kieran knew one thing for certain.

His stepbrother wasn’t here to reconcile.

He was here to finish what he started.