18.

Kieran's POV:-

The moment he walked into Noah’s classroom again and saw him packing his things, his chest constricted.

Noah’s hands trembled as he shoved books into his bag, his tear-streaked face turned away.

“Noah,” Kieran breathed, stepping forward. “What are you doing?”

Noah flinched but didn’t stop. “I have to go, Kieran. They’re making me.”

No. No, no, no.

Kieran grabbed his wrist, desperate. “You don’t have to do anything.” His voice cracked. “I handled it. You’re not going anywhere.”

Noah yanked his hand free. “You think you handled it?” He let out a broken laugh. “Kieran, it’s done. Everyone already agreed. The paperwork’s signed. I can’t stay.”

Kieran’s blood turned cold.

They were taking him.

His kitten. His sweet, stubborn little Noah.

“No.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You belong to me.”

Noah turned, his eyes red and puffy. “That’s not how this works.”

But Kieran wasn’t listening anymore. He was shaking, his mind spiraling. Noah was leaving him. They were taking him away. They thought they could separate them.

A scream built in his chest, but it never came. Instead, he turned and stormed out of the classroom.

The hallways blurred around him. Students moved aside, sensing the violence rolling off him in waves.

His body burned. His vision darkened. He didn’t know where he was going—only that he needed to destroy something.

And then he was standing in the supply closet near the chemistry lab.

Staring at the shelves of flammable chemicals.

His breathing evened out. His fingers twitched.

A slow, cruel smile curled his lips.

If they take him away, then there won’t be a school left to take him from.

The next moments were a blur. He moved mechanically—precisely—pouring accelerants along the hallway, the scent of ethanol and acetone sharp in the air.

A spark. A flick of his lighter.

And then—flames.

The fire spread fast. Licking up the walls, devouring everything in its path.

Screams erupted. Chaos broke loose.

But Kieran didn’t move. He stood there, watching the flames consume the school that tried to take Noah from him.

The heat seared his skin, but he didn’t flinch.

This was his rage. His vengeance.

His eyes gleamed, dark with madness, as he whispered into the inferno—

“Noah… you’re mine.”

******

The fire roared behind him, an inferno swallowing the school whole. The scent of burning wood and chemicals filled the air, thick smoke curling toward the sky. Chaos erupted—students screamed, teachers shouted, and alarms wailed through the halls.

But Kieran stood still, unmoved. The world burned, and he felt nothing.

Then—shouts. Heavy footsteps.

“Stop right there!”

Security guards.

They rushed toward him, their expressions torn between panic and determination. They thought they could stop him. Restrain him.

Kieran laughed.

The first guard lunged. Kieran sidestepped, quick and lethal, slamming his elbow into the man’s throat. He choked, staggering back, hands clawing at his neck.

The second guard grabbed Kieran’s arm. Mistake.

With a snarl, Kieran twisted free, his fist colliding with the man’s face. The sickening crunch of bone shattering filled the air. Blood sprayed, staining the tile.

More came.

One tackled him, driving him into a row of lockers. Pain shot through his ribs, but Kieran only grinned.

"You think you can stop me?" His voice was low, almost amused.

The guard tightened his grip. Kieran responded with a headbutt. The man’s nose crunched, and he crumpled to the floor, blood gushing.

Another tried to grab him from behind. Kieran threw his head back, cracking into the man’s skull. The guard howled, stumbling, and Kieran took his chance—spinning around, his knee driving straight into the man’s gut.

They fell one by one, blood splattering against the white walls, bodies groaning in pain at his feet.

Kieran stood in the wreckage, his chest heaving, his knuckles dripping red.

The fire raged behind him, flames flickering in his wild eyes.

This was their punishment.

For trying to take Noah from him.

For thinking they could.

He licked the blood off his lip, a slow, satisfied smirk stretching across his face.

And then—he walked away.

Toward Noah. His perfect Angel.

But

Then—his phone buzzed.

He didn’t need to check. He already knew.

They called him.

His father.

And sure enough, minutes later, the unmistakable hum of an expensive car cut through the sirens. The crowd parted as a sleek black vehicle pulled up in front of the school, and from it stepped Richard Wolfe.

Kieran’s jaw clenched.

His father was a tall, imposing figure, dressed in a tailored three-piece suit that screamed power. Silver streaked his dark hair, but his face was untouched by age—cold, sharp, unreadable. He didn’t rush. Didn’t panic. He simply adjusted his cufflinks and walked forward with calculated precision.

The head of the administration was already there, trembling. “Mr. Wolfe—your son—he—he did this—”

Kieran watched as his father’s cold eyes swept over the destruction, the fire, the fallen bodies. Then those eyes landed on him.

“Kieran.” His voice was calm. Almost bored.

Kieran said nothing.

“Come.” It wasn’t a request.

But Kieran didn’t move. He wouldn’t.

Not when they were still trying to take his Noah away.

His father’s gaze sharpened, reading him like an open book. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “You really lost control this time.”

Kieran smirked, wiping blood from his knuckles onto his shirt. “Maybe.”

His father turned to the administration. “How much?”

The woman blinked. “I—I’m sorry?”

“How much to fix this?” Richard’s voice was sharper now, impatient. “The damages, the legal threats—name your price.”

The administrator gaped at him like he was insane. “Mr. Wolfe, your son just set fire to the school and assaulted multiple staff members!”

He didn’t even blink. “And?”

Kieran bit back a laugh. This was typical of his father. He didn’t care about the destruction. Only about the cost.

The administrator sputtered. “This isn’t just about money! We—we have to call the authorities—”

“No.” Richard’s voice dropped, smooth and deadly. “You won’t.”

A thick, heavy silence followed.

And then—Richard Wolfe pulled out his phone. “You have ten minutes to give me a number before I buy out this entire damn school and fire every single one of you.”

Kieran smirked. Now this was getting interesting.

*******