The door opened with a quiet creak, and the scent of crayons and vanilla hit Ren instantly.

The room was bright, filled with toys and picture books that looked far too cheerful for a house surrounded by armed guards.

​In the center of the room, a young boy sat on a plush rug, meticulously building a tower of blocks. He had the same thick, dark hair as Ren’s older brother—the brother Cilian had murdered.

​"Toby?" Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a grief he had to keep buried deep.

​The boy’s head snapped up. His face lit up with a pure, dazzling joy that made Ren’s heart shatter. Toby scrambled to his feet, his small sneakers thudding against the carpet as he ran.

​"Uncle Ren!"

​Ren dropped to his knees just in time to catch the small force of nature. Toby collided with him, wrapping his thin arms around Ren’s neck and squeezing with everything he had.

Ren buried his face in the boy’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of home, even though ’home’ no longer existed.

​"You’re finally here!" Toby pulled back just enough to look Ren in the face, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Is it time? Can we go see Daddy now? And Grandpa? You said after your business trip, we’d go home."

​Ren felt like he had been punched in the gut. He couldn’t breathe. He looked into those innocent eyes—eyes that didn’t know his father had been gunned down, eyes that didn’t know his grandfather’s empire was a pile of ash.

Toby still lived in the world Cilian had destroyed, kept in a bubble of lies.

​Ren’s throat felt tight, his eyes stinging. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell a six-year-old that they were the only ones left.

​"Toby, I..." Ren started, but the words died in his mouth.

​"I’ve been practicing my drawing to show Daddy," Toby continued, oblivious to the war inside Ren. He reached for a crumpled paper on the desk. "Look! It’s us. And Mr. Cilian, too! He said if I were good and finished my lessons, you’d come for me."

​Ren’s gaze flickered to the doorway. Cilian was leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

He was watching the scene with a doting, proud expression, as if he were a benevolent god who had granted a miracle. He looked at Ren, his golden-brown eyes soft with a sick kind of ’love’.

​"See, Ren?" Cilian purred, stepping into the room. "I told you he was doing well. He’s been a very brave boy."

​Cilian reached down and ruffled Toby’s hair. The boy didn’t flinch; he actually leaned into the touch, looking at Cilian with a shy smile.

Ren felt a surge of pure, murderous hatred. Cilian hadn’t just kidnapped Toby; he had groomed him to see his family’s killer as his guardian, who was literally ’babysitting’ him while the family was away.

Disgusting.

​"I remember you told me Daddy was really busy when you called the last time," Toby told Ren, his hand slipping into Ren’s. "But Mr. Cilian said if you came, it meant Daddy was almost done. Can we go now? Please?"

​Ren squeezed Toby’s hand, his knuckles white. He looked at Cilian, who was still smiling that fox-like grin. The message was clear: I have the boy’s heart, Ren. If you tell him the truth, you’re the one who breaks him. Not me.

Some truths are better off hidden.

But for how long? How long would he be able to keep the truth hidden for?

​"Not... not today, Toby," Ren forced out, the lie tasting like poison. "There’s still a little bit of work to do. But I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

​Toby’s face fell slightly, but he nodded bravely. "Okay. But soon? Grandpa said he was going to teach me how to ride a horse when I turned seven. I’ll be turning seven soon." He smiled happily, and that smirk broke Ren’s heart.

His grandpa, Ren’s father, was no longer alive, so who would teach him to ride a horse now?

​"Soon," Ren whispered, pulling the boy back into a hug so Toby wouldn’t see the tears finally spilling over. "And if father doesn’t have time to teach you, I... I’ll teach you myself. I’ll teach you how to ride a horse, Toby,"

"Really?" Toby cheered, happy. "Thank you, Uncle Ren."

​Over Toby’s shoulder, Ren’s grey eyes met Cilian’s. There was no more pretend submission in them—only a cold, jagged promise of violence.

​Cilian had used a six-year-old as a shield. He had made Toby love him, see him as his angel.

Cilian looked at that gaze in Ren’s eyes. The hatred was raw, and while it looked like it was directed at him, he did not care.

Ren had the freedom to hate, after all.

​Ren pulled back, wiping his eyes and forcing a small smile for his nephew. "Shall we play games, Toby?" He asked, and Toby nodded.

"Yes, yes, the sand castle at the back is especially fun."

"Sand castle? But it’s late, Toby." They couldn’t be playing outside when it was this late, but Toby shook his head.

"The back is always bright. So I can play every time I want."

Ren was a bit confused and looked at Cilian, who simply smiled. You’ll see. His smile said, and Ren got up, following Toby, who was tugging him ahead.

"Come on, come on, it’ll be fun."

The air was cool as Toby led Ren toward the back of the house. When they stepped through the glass doors, Ren stopped.

​It was a giant glass dome. Inside, the lights were so bright that it looked like a perfect sunny day. There was a small forest, a stream, and a huge sandcastle.

​"The sun never goes away here!" Toby cheered. He let go of Ren’s hand and ran toward the sandcastle. He turned around and spread his arms wide. "Welcome to my playground, Uncle Ren! Is it pretty? Mr. Cilian made it just for—"

​Crack!

​The sound was sharp, like glass breaking.

​Ren watched a jagged line race across the glass ceiling. Then, something small and fast hissed through the air.

​Everything seemed to slow down. A small, dark hole appeared in the middle of Toby’s forehead. The boy’s head snapped back. His happy face didn’t even have time to change. It just went blank.

​Drops of red blood sprayed into the air. They looked like bright red beads in the light before hitting the white sand. Toby’s body tilted, and he fell backward into the sandcastle.

​"To... Toby?"