Finding Ourselves.

chapter 2

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

​Elaine stood frozen on the wooden porch, her breath hitching in her throat. Recognition, raw pain, childhood love, and a sudden, electrifying heat churned violently in her chest. She looked up at the man standing before her—taking in the towering frame, the sharp jawline, and those piercing green eyes that seemed to burn straight into her soul. He wasn't a little boy anymore. He was a dangerous, imposing force, his presence radiating power that made her skin tingle.

​The sheer intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, threatening to dismantle her completely.

​So, she chose anger instead.

​Her cheeks flushed a fiery red as her chest heaved. Anger flared through her veins, a shield against the overwhelming desire and hurt crashing over her. She pointed a trembling finger straight at his chest, her voice cracking as she began to ramble, tears welling in her eyes.

​"You!" she choked out, her voice rising. "Do you know how long I waited for you?! Seventeen years! Where were you?! Why did it take you this long to get here?!"

​Hayes didn't flinch. His expression softened with a look of profound, agonizing tenderness. Without a word, he stepped up the porch stairs, closing the distance between them.

​Before she could push him away, Hayes reached out and pulled her firmly into his arms.

​Elaine froze as his large, strong hands wrapped around her waist, pressing her against the broad, solid expanse of his chest. He buried his face into the soft curve of her neck and hair, inhaling her scent like a dying man breathing air for the first time.

​The wall of anger inside her shattered. Elaine burst into quiet, helpless sobs, her hands clutching at the heavy fabric of his coat as she buried her face into his shirt.

​Behind them, Liam stepped forward, his own eyes glistening behind his glasses. He wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling Elaine into a shared, emotional embrace. For a few unhurried minutes, the world outside faded away, leaving only three broken survivors holding onto each other in the quiet country air.

​Once the storm of tears had settled into a quiet hum, Papa John cleared his throat, adjusting his hat. "Let's take this inside, son," he said gently. "We have things to talk about."

​They moved into the cozy living room. Papa John sent his two younger daughters up to their bedrooms before bringing out glasses of fresh water for everyone. Once they were seated around the wooden table, Papa John recounted how he had found six-year-old Elaine hanging upside down in the capsized vehicle near the cliff edge, unconscious and bruised.

​When he finished, all eyes turned to Elaine.

​She stared down at her glass, her fingers trembling as the dark memories surfaced.

​"I remember... after the fire," Elaine began softly, her voice strained. "Eleanor and I were still crying outside when armed men drove into the estate grounds. They were shouting, asking where the mistresses of the mansion were. We were terrified."

​She swallowed hard, Hayes's intense green gaze never leaving her face.

​"Peter—one of my dad's trusted bodyguards—was hiding behind a fallen stone wall," she continued. "He whispered for us to stay low and follow him toward the woods. But as we ran, one of the gunmen spotted us. He screamed, 'They're over here!'"

​A heavy shadow passed over her face. "They caught up to us immediately. We were too small, and Peter was already injured. They... they shot Peter in the head right in front of us."

​Hayes’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched along his cheekbone.

​"They grabbed Eleanor and me," Elaine whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "We were kicking and screaming, but they threw us into the back of a black van. It was pouring rain outside. Eleanor was clutching her teddy bear, sobbing for Mom. One of the men in the back yelled at her to shut up. I screamed back at him not to talk to my sister like that..."

​She took a shaky breath. "While they were speeding down the highway off the cliff trail, an armored truck suddenly slammed out of the rain, shooting heavily at the convoy. The van we were in was forced to a screeching halt. They pulled the doors open and dragged me out onto the wet asphalt—using me as a human shield to stop the truck from firing."

​Elaine looked up, her eyes wide with the horror of that memory. "They split us up right there. They drove Eleanor away in a separate car down another route... while two men tried to shove me into a parked van sitting right on the shoulder of the cliff. But the armored truck didn't stop in time. It swerved on the slick road, losing control, and rammed straight into the van I was pushed inside."

​Hayes leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white.

​"I scrambled to the rear window," Elaine said, her voice barely a whisper. "I was beating against the glass, screaming for help. And then... through the windshield of the truck that hit us, I saw the driver and the passenger. It was your uncle driving... and you were sitting in the passenger seat."

​Hayes let out a ragged, shuddering breath, closing his eyes.

​"I saw your face, Hayes," she sobbed. "I saw you scream my name. And then... the van tipped over the edge. It rolled and smashed down the cliffside for what felt like forever until everything went black."

​Silence descended on the room, heavy as lead.

​Liam leaned back, staring at Elaine in absolute shock, his mouth slightly open. He looked over at Hayes, whose fists were trembling.

​"We thought you were dead," Liam whispered, his voice thick with disbelief. "Elaine... we saw that van go over the cliff. It burst into flames at the bottom. We searched for days, but the wreckage was gutted. We thought both you and Eleanor were inside that vehicle."

​He looked at Hayes, then back to Elaine, the gravity of the realization settling over all of them.

​"We thought both Win Star twins died that night," Liam said softly. "We had no idea Eleanor was taken down a different road... or that you had survived the fall."

Heavy silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

​Hayes sat motionless, his sharp jaw locked tight as he stared down at his scarred knuckles. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, raspy, and laced with years of suppressed darkness.

​"Right after that van fell off the cliff edge," Hayes said, every word dripping with gravel, "we were frantically trying to figure out how to get down there to search for you. But before Uncle could even turn the engine around, his phone rang. It was the butler from the main estate."

​Hayes’s green eyes darkened, flicking up to look at Elaine.

​"Our house was under attack," he said coldly. "My mother and father were in the courtyard, fighting off the Russo family."

​Elaine gasped softly, her hand moving to her throat.

​"The Russos were the ones who ambushed your parents," Hayes explained, his tone deadly serious. "They were after the ledger—a black book containing government secrets, dangerous political leverage, and centuries of underworld blackmail. Secrets so volatile they could tear the entire country apart. The Mob Council had entrusted that ledger to my father for safe keeping. But knowing our home was always a target, my father secretly passed it to your parents, the Winsters, for protection."

​He let out a bitter, dark laugh under his breath.

​"Somehow, the information leaked," Hayes continued. "The Russos found out your father was holding it. Once they ambushed your parents and secured the ledger, they didn't wait around for my family to react. They launched an all-out war that same night to wipe us off the face of the earth."

​Liam swallowed hard, bowing his head as the memories resurfaced.

​"They hit everything at once," Hayes said, his hands clenching into tight, white-knuckled fists. "They destroyed our perimeter defenses, cut the power grids, butchered our guards, slaughtered our livestock, and set the grounds ablaze. They leveled our legacy in less than an hour."

​Hayes leaned closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper that sent chills down Elaine’s spine.

​"Uncle drove like a madman to get back to the estate," Hayes rasped. "At the exact same time we pulled into the long driveway, another car pulled up—dropping off Liam, who was just coming back from a friend's house."

​Liam’s breath hitched, a tear escaping from behind his glasses as he remembered that night.

​"We ran into the courtyard together," Hayes finished, his emerald eyes burning with raw, unadulterated pain. "And right there... in front of the grand courtyard fountain... we found our parents. The Russos had strung them up above the water. We stood there in the dark, seven and nine years old, completely traumatized as we watched their blood drip slowly into the water below."

​The room fell into a dead, horrifying silence.

​Elaine stared at Hayes, her heart bleeding for the broken nine-year-old boy who had lost everything on the very same night she did. The dark bond between them—forged in blood, trauma, and lost years—pulled at her, heavy and inescapable.