He who brings hell

**CHAPTER TWO — Unwelcome**

**Kael Maddox’s POV**

I stood there. My eyes remained fixed on the rusted gate. My fists clenched at my sides, not from rage, but from the unbearable ache pressing against my ribs.

“I didn’t abandon you. I never meant to disappear.”

“I’m back now, Aria. For you. For us.”

I stared at the front door again, half-expecting it to creak open. It didn’t.

“Is that… my son?” I murmured.

I looked at the puddles forming around my boots, the rain sliding down my face. Liam. Before I was imprisoned, Aria was three months pregnant. I still remembered standing with her in a dusty corner store, laughing as we picked out baby clothes. We couldn’t even agree on the color.

But we agreed on one thing—if it was a boy, we’d name him.

Liam.

She kept the promise.

I let out a shaky breath, staring at the house like it was some sacred ground I no longer deserved to touch.

“I don’t want to fight. I just… Can I say hello to my boy?” I asked again, but there was only rain in reply.

Until—

BEEP! BEEP!

A car honked from behind me.

"Kael"

I turned.

A black SUV rolled to a halt. The driver’s door flew open and a man stepped out with a confident stride and a wide smile.

“Darren,”

He rushed forward and pulled me into a firm hug.

“I waited for you at the terminal,” Darren said, stepping back to look at me. “When you didn’t show up, I knew you’d come here first.”

I nodded. “I had to see her. And… him.”

His smile faded slightly. “Did you?”

I looked down. “She didn’t let me inside.”

“Damn. I’m sorry, Kael.”

He motioned toward the car. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the rain.”

The leather seats were warm, the engine humming smooth under us. Everything inside smelled like cedarwood and clean polish. I glanced at Darren’s tailored jacket, the silver watch on his wrist, the silent power in the way he drove.

Six years… and the world had clearly moved on without me.

He kept talking, pointing at buildings, landmarks and new bridges. “You wouldn’t believe how much this place has changed. There’s a tech hub near Westvale now. And Ashwick’s got a mall.”

I nodded along, half-listening.

Darren Thorne wasn’t just my older brother. People had always thought we shared blood.

Truth was, my father, Colonel Emory Maddox, adopted Darren when he was just a teen, long before I was born. Darren had been a street kid. My father saw something in him, took him in, gave him Family.

Darren became more than a brother. He became my first sparring partner, my guardian, my only friend when things fell apart. And when I was drowning in debt after enlistment, he’d offered to pay it all.

Now, seeing him behind the wheel of a luxury car, dressed like a CEO, I should’ve felt jealousy.

But I didn’t.

I’d lost too much to envy anyone. And seeing him win? That was enough for now.

We pulled into a gated community lined with manicured lawns and polished stone paths. He parked in front of a massive, modern villa.

I stared at it. “You live here?”

He chuckled. “Hard to believe, right? Come on. Let me show you around.”

The interior was even more impressive—marble floors, high ceilings, and beautiful art. Every corner screamed of wealth.

“Where’s your wife?” I asked, dropping my bag beside the coat rack.

“On a business tour. She’s in Dubai—probably shopping more than working.” He grinned, then led me to the open living room. “Won’t be back for a few days.”

He grabbed two wine glasses from the kitchen and popped a bottle from the rack.

“So,” he said, pouring. “What now? You gonna disappear again? Or is Kael Maddox finally staying put?”

I caught the glass he tossed me.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “No plans yet. I just… need to breathe.”

He nodded, lifting his own glass. “That’s good. Forget the past for a while. Just enjoy the present.”

He reached for the bottle again, refilling my glass.

Then—

BANG!

The front door burst open.

A woman stormed in, followed by a little girl tugging at her dress.

She stopped short the moment she saw me.

Her eyes went wide, then narrowed fast.

Darren stood up. “Mira—! You’re back early.”

I caught the shake in his voice.

Even his glass trembled slightly.

She didn’t answer.

She looked straight at me.

Then back at Darren.

“What is he doing here?” she asked coldly.

Darren glanced between us. “Mira, this is Kael. My brother—”

“I know who he is,” she snapped. Her arm went protectively around her daughter. “And I will not have a murderer under this roof.”

Her words hit harder than a bullet.

Darren stepped forward, hands raised. “Mira, come on. He’s not—”

“I don’t care!” she barked. “I told you if he ever came back, he was not to come near our family. You lied to me, Darren!”

I stood slowly, the wine glass untouched in my hand.

“I didn’t come here to cause problems,” I said, calm but low. “I just needed a place to think. I’ll leave.”

She stared me down like I was poison. “Do that. And don’t come back.”

“He’s not leaving,” Darren said sharply.

Mira whipped around. “Excuse me?”

“I said he’s not leaving. This is my house.”

Her laughter was cold. Bitter. “Your house? Your house?” she repeated mockingly. “Have you forgotten who paid for every tile in this place?”

Darren’s face paled, just slightly. His jaw worked. “Mira—don’t do this.”

“Oh, I will do this,” she said, stepping forward, her words like poison-laced arrows. “The day my father paid that $350,000 debt, you stopped being your own man. You became a piece of my family’s property. Bought and owned.”

My eyes widened.

The debt… That amount… That was the debt Darren covered for me six years ago.

My stomach turned.

He didn’t just help me. He sold himself for me. And he never told me.

Darren’s shoulders hunched forward. “Mira, just calm down,” he pleaded. “It’s raining heavily outside. Look, it’s almost night. Where do you want him to go in this kind of weather?”

She shrugged coldly. “That’s not my concern.”

“You can’t be serious right now!”

“I am dead serious!” she screamed. “I won’t let a killer sleep under the same roof as my daughter—”

Before she could finish, a shrill gasp cut her off.

I turned just in time to see the little girl—her daughter collapse, her tiny hands twitching violently, her eyes rolled back, foam forming at the corner of her lips.

“NAYLA!” Mira screamed, dropping to the floor and scooping the girl into her arms. “Oh my God, Nayla! Baby! Look at me!”

Darren panicked. “What—what’s happening?!”

“Get the medicine!” Mira shouted, tears streaking her face. “NOW!”

Darren fumbled for the emergency box beneath the stairs. His hands trembled as he grabbed the small bottle inside—but the moment he popped the lid, it slipped through his fingers.

CRASH.

The bottle shattered on the floor.

“No—NO!” Mira shrieked. “You i***t! That was the only one left!”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Do something! Don’t just stand there—she’s DYING!” she sobbed, cradling the convulsing girl, her voice breaking. “If anything happens to her, Darren—God help me, I’ll never forgive you!”

He scrambled for his phone, dialing with shaky hands. “Come on… come on…”

“Emergency line, this is Central Medical.”

“My daughter! She’s having a seizure—we need help—she’s not breathing properly—please—”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the voice on the other end replied calmly. “Due to the outbreak in District 4, all hospitals are currently locked down. We can’t accept new patients at this time.”

“What? Are you insane? She’s a child!” Darren screamed into the phone. “Do something!”

My gaze dropped to the girl—her skin had begun to pulse. Thick black veins snaked up her neck like dark vines. Her lips were purple. Her body twitched violently.

Something in me snapped into place.

“Move,” I growled.

I dropped beside her, eyes sharp, scanning the symptoms—veins, foam, faint breath.

“How long has this been going on?” I asked, checking her pulse.

Darren stuttered, “S-she’s always had seizures, but not like this. Never like this…”

“Salt,” I barked.

Darren blinked. “W-what?”

“GET ME SALT. NOW!”

He ran, returned seconds later with a jar of fine cooking salt.

I dipped my hand in, rubbing it fast across Nayla’s neck and chest, then pushed her sleeves up and covered her arms. “Rub it on your hands,” I told them both. “Now. Go!”

They obeyed.

Her convulsions slowed slightly.

But it wasn’t enough.

My fingers reached into my boot, pulling a small utility knife from the hidden pouch.

Mira’s eyes widened. “What are you doing—”

“If you don’t want her to die, shut your damn mouth.”

I sliced a shallow line across Nayla’s left palm.

She barely flinched—already unconscious.

**Thick, black blood** oozed from the cut, thicker than tar, reeking of rot.

My heart froze.

No… not this. Not again.

*How did this disease make it here?*

Mira's voice trembled, “W-what’s wrong with my daughter? What the hell is that?”

I looked up slowly, voice hard as stone. “Get me a bowl of warm water. And a hot iron.”

“What?! What are you planning to do?”

“You want answers?” I snapped. “She’s been infected… with **Serpent's Vein.**”

“Serpent's… what?”

“It’s a viral bioweapon,” I muttered, “Created by Malik Radwan and the Red Serpents. Designed to simulate common seizures at first… until the virus breaks through the nervous system and shuts down the organs—one by one.”

Mira’s face went pale.

“Your daughter’s been poisoned by terrorists,” I said. “Now go. Get the water. And heat the iron. If we don’t cauterize the virus out of her bloodstream, she won’t live through the hour.”