When Adam arrived in Roanoke, no matter how brutally he tortured its people, they refused to give up any information. Their silence only fueled his rage.
Then, as he was walrking, a small pair of arms wrapped around him.
"Dada."
He froze.
Looking down, he saw a little girl staring up at him. She was older now, but he recognized her instantly.
"Yves…"
He scooped her up, holding her tightly. For a moment, the world blurred. The blood on his hands, the hatred burning in his chest—it all faded.
Then Yves turned.
"Mama!" she called out.
Adam's body went cold. He followed her gaze and saw a figure approaching. Pictoria.
Panic surged through him. He ducked behind a transport truck, pressing his back against the metal. His grip on Yves tightened for a brief second before he set her down. Then, without another word, he slipped away.
From the shadows, he watched as Pictoria scooped Yves into her arms and carried her off.
Adam clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms.
He had lost his daughter. His family. His life.
But Pictoria? She had everything.
A perfect idea formed in his mind. He would make her suffer as he had. He would take from her what she took from him.
For three days, he followed her, tracking her movements. Watching her come home each night. Watching her embrace her husband. Adam couldn't make out his face—only a shadowed silhouette. It didn't matter.
He had seen enough.
His patience snapped.
That night, he followed her home once more, but this time, he didn't wait. He kicked the door open, storming inside.
Pictoria barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around her throat.
But before he could tighten his grip, she moved.
With a sharp twist, she flipped him over, slamming him hard onto the floor.
Adam gasped, stunned. Then—Pictoria laughed.
She reached down, offering him a hand.
The door swung open.
Adam's clone walked in.
Pictoria turned toward the sound. In that split second, Adam lunged.
His hands locked around her neck.
"No!" his clone shouted.
But it was too late.
With one sharp motion, Adam snapped her neck.
A choked cry filled the air. Yves.
She had seen everything.
Her tiny body trembled. Tears welled in her wide, disbelieving eyes.
For the first time in years, Adam felt something worse than rage.
Adam took a step toward Yves, his hands trembling. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her everything would be okay.
But she flinched away.
Instead, she ran straight into the arms of his clone.
Adam's jaw clenched. His clone held Yves protectively, glaring at him.
"What did you do?" the clone demanded.
Adam's expression remained cold. "What did I do? I did what you failed to do."
The clone shook his head. "Things are different now. She was different now."
Adam scoffed. "I don't care if she became a saint. She killed our wife. She deserved to die."
The clone's grip on Yves tightened. His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with something raw.
"Our wife?" His eyes darkened. "She killed your wife… and you just killed mine."