Derek shot up from his chair so fast that it startled everyone around the table. Before anyone could even blink, he was across the room and on Brian.
"You bastard!" he snarled, voice low and dangerous. "You dare show your face here after what you did?"
Brian didn’t even try to fight back or defend himself. He simply stood there, pale and exhausted, letting Derek manhandle him. Derek shoved him to the floor and raised his fist, ready to drive it into Brian’s face.
"Derek, stop!" Kira was there in a heartbeat, both hands wrapping around his raised arm, holding it back with everything she had.
Derek’s head snapped towards her, his eyes still blazing. Kira shook her head slowly, her eyes pleading with him.
"Let me finish this bastard," Derek growled, his arm trembling under her grip with the effort of holding himself back. "He kidnapped you, Kira. That is a punishable offence. He deserves far worse than a few punches."
"I know," Kira said softly. "I know exactly what he did. But look at him, Derek," She glanced down at Brian, who was still lying on the floor, breathing hard. "He’s barely alive." Her grip on his arm gentled. "We’ll punish him later, I promise you. But right now, he needs to eat something before he collapses."
The entire table remained completely silent. All of them simply sat and watched the scene unfold in tense silence, none of them daring to interfere.
Derek’s chest heaved, his fury still trapped and boiling inside him with nowhere to go. He stared down at Brian, then back at Kira, the struggle clear on his face. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he released Brian and stepped back.
"Fine," he muttered, voice still rough. "But this is not over."
Brian didn’t say a word. He simply dragged himself up and sat on the table. The maids quietly set a plate of food in front of Brian. The table watched in stunned silence as he attacked the breakfast like a man who had not eaten properly in days.
He barely chewed, shovelling food into his mouth with shaking hands. Kira looked away, a complicated mix of pity and lingering anger swirling inside her.
Derek watched him for a moment longer, then turned to Connor.
"When he’s done," he said, his voice cold and clipped, "handcuff him. Lock him in one of the rooms and put a heavy guard on the door. I want heavy guards on that door at all times. He does not leave until I decide what to do with him."
Connor nodded and gestured to a couple of gammas, who moved into position, waiting.
***
Later that day, Kira and Derek made their way to the medical centre for the scan.
Kira lay on the examination table in the medical centre, the cool gel making her flinch slightly. She let her eyes fall shut as the female doctor moved the cold probe slowly across her stomach, eyes fixed on the screen.
Derek stood beside her, holding her hand tightly, his usual cold expression softened by quiet worry.
The doctor’s brows drew together. She moved the probe again, paused, then leaned in closer to the screen. A slow smile spread across her face.
"Well," she said. "It seems congratulations are twice in order, Your Graces."
Kira’s eyes flew open. "What do you mean, twice?"
The doctor turned the screen towards them and pointed. "You’re not carrying one pup. You’re carrying two. Twins."
For a moment, neither Kira nor Derek said anything at all. They just stared at the screen, at the two tiny shapes nestled there.
"Twins," Derek repeated softly, like he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard right.
"Twins," Kira breathed, and then she was laughing, tears springing to her eyes, her free hand flying to her mouth.
Derek leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers, and for once the cold, composed Lycan King looked completely, helplessly overwhelmed with joy. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Kira’s forehead, then another to her lips.
"Two," he murmured against her lips. "You’re giving me two."
"Nana’s going to lose her mind," Kira said through her laughter.
"Nana’s going to start knitting tonight and not stop until the babies are grown," Derek agreed, and kissed her.
***
While all of that unfolded, Nana made her way quietly to the room where Brian was being kept, waving off the guards at the door and letting herself in.
Brian sat slumped on the edge of the bed, wrists cuffed, staring at the floor. When he saw Nana, something in him crumpled entirely, and he broke down.
Nana kept her spine straight and her voice firm, determined not to be moved. "Brian. Look at what you’ve done to yourself. Look at what you’ve become."
"I know," Brian whispered, his shoulders shaking. "I know, Nana. I know everything I’ve done."
He lifted his head, and his eyes were red and swimming. "But I only ever wanted someone to show me a little bit of love. That’s why I took her. I thought if I forced her to stay with me, she would eventually care. I just wanted someone to love me."
Nana’s resolve wavered, but she held on to it. "Brian," she said gently, "you cannot force anyone to love you. It doesn’t work that way. Kidnapping that poor girl, forcing yourself into her life, that was never, ever going to make her love you. You must know that."
Brian didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, or make excuses. He simply pushed himself up off the bed and walked forward. "I really need a hug. That’s all."
Before Nana could react, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder, weeping.
"Am I really so terrible and unlovable?" he choked out against her, his voice muffled and broken. "So awful that even my own mother keeps pushing me away? I only ever wanted her to care. Just a little."
And with those words, Nana felt her heart crack completely.
Silent tears began to slip down her own cheeks as she stood there, this grown man sobbing into her shoulder like a lost little boy. And in that moment she understood—truly understood that Brian had been carrying the wound of that rejection for his whole life, a wound so deep it had twisted everything it touched.
She thought back over the years, and a guilty ache settled in her chest. Because she couldn’t deny it. She had never shown Brian the same easy warmth she’d showered on her other grandchildren.
She’d held him at arm’s length. Though even as the guilt rose, another quieter voice reminded her why. Brian had turned rebellious so suddenly, so violently, that loving him had come to feel like handling something sharp.
Still.
Slowly, Nana raised her arms and wrapped them around him, holding him properly at last, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back the way she had for all the others when they were small.
"There, there," she murmured, her own tears falling freely now. "Let it out, child. Let it all out."
And as she held him, rocking him gently, one heartbreaking question kept turning over and over in her mind.
Had they all failed this boy?