Darius Kincaid sat there, stunned.
Even after he hung up, he remained motionless, staring blankly into space, his normally dark face having turned a shade lighter from sheer shock.
Lying naked beside him, Sonia frowned, watching her man's rare moment of panic.
Since meeting Kincaid, she had never seen him lose his composure. He was always the epitome of calm—no matter the situation, no matter the danger, he always had a smartass remark and a devil-may-care attitude.
But now?
Now, he looked shaken.
Sonia had no idea that Kincaid wasn't panicking because Dukhovich had sent assassins after him. That part didn't scare him—he had dealt with worse.
What terrified him was the fact that Castle had been able to track him down so easily.
How the hell had a novelist—a man who supposedly spent his time writing about fictional crimes—found his exact location?
How had he even gotten his number?
It meant that Kincaid's entire cover was blown.
It meant that if Castle could find him, so could his enemies.
And that scared him far more than any hit squad.
If a man like Castle—who wasn't even actively looking for him—had such access, then what about the authorities? What about all the governments that wanted his head?
If his location had been this easy to discover, then how safe had he really been all this time?
For a man as proud and paranoid as Kincaid, this realization was humiliating.
But Castle hadn't intended to reveal so much.
All he had wanted was to warn Kincaid—but in doing so, he had inadvertently shattered the hitman's false sense of security.
Now fully alert, Kincaid wasted no time in responding.
Immediately after hanging up, he scrapped his entire plan.
He had originally intended to stay in Honduras and deal with Dukhovich's men on his own terms.
But now?
Now, he knew he had bigger problems.
If Castle could find him, then there was no guarantee that he wasn't already being watched by someone else.
He needed to move—fast.
Without even bothering to explain, Kincaid got out of bed and started packing.
Sonia, still lying naked in bed, raised an eyebrow.
"Baby…? What the hell is going on?"
"We're leaving," Kincaid said firmly. "Right now."
"What? But—"
"No time. Get dressed. We gotta go."
Sonia had spent enough time with Kincaid to know when he was serious.
Without further questions, she got up and started throwing clothes into a bag.
Less than fifteen minutes later, they were on the road, heading toward a secure safe house in Guatemala.
Kincaid figured he needed at least a few days to get his bearings—figure out what the hell was going on and come up with a new plan.
In the process, without realizing it, he had completely evaded both Dukhovich's assassins and Interpol.
Castle, watching everything unfold from halfway across the world, couldn't help but admire him.
"Damn," he muttered, shaking his head. "I knew he was sharp, but this guy's paranoia level is off the charts."
Castle had only told him about Dukhovich's men.
He had deliberatelywithheld the information about Interpol, hoping Kincaid would stick around long enough for them to catch Sonia and force him into a ridiculous international chase.
But this guy?
He was so damn jumpy that he'd escaped before either group even landed in the country.
Castle had to respect that level of paranoia.
It was almost on par with his own.
Meanwhile, in Honduras, both Dukhovich's hitmen and Interpol were dumbfounded.
Their target—who had been right there just hours ago—was gone.
Vanished.
Not a trace left behind.
The Interpol agents, accustomed to dealing with slippery criminals, sighed in frustration but were not surprised.
Dukhovich's men, on the other hand, were utterly baffled.
They had expected to find an overconfident hitman, someone who wouldn't even see them coming.
Instead, they had arrived only to discover he had disappeared like a ghost.
With their mission a total failure, they had no choice but to report back and await further instructions.
Interpol, however, was far from done.
They doubled down on their search efforts, scouring every lead they could find.
They were determined to bring Kincaid in.
And Castle?
Castle just sat back and watched, thoroughly enjoying the chaos he had indirectly helped create.
After all, the more time it took Interpol to catch Kincaid, the longer Castle had to stay home with his newborn son before heading to Europe to watch the real show.
Back in New York, Castle was a completely different man.
The same guy who had gleefully engineered international drama was now…
A dedicated, full-time dad.
His entire world now revolved around diapers, formula, and late-night crying fits.
It wasn't glamorous.
It wasn't exciting.
And yet…
Castle was loving every second of it.
For the first time in his two lifetimes, he finally understood what it meant to raise a child from birth.
Sure, he had Alexis, but she had already been 15 by the time he became Castle.
He had missed out on all of her early years.
Now, he had a second chance.
A chance to be there from the very beginning.
And as exhausting as it was…
As much as he barely got more than a few hours of sleep at a time…
Castle wouldn't trade it for anything.
Beckett, of course, had returned to work after just a month.
Unlike in China, where mothers were expected to take extended maternity leave, American mothers often returned to work quickly—especially someone like Beckett, who was too career-driven to stay home for long.
And so, after just four weeks, Beckett was back at the precinct.
Which meant Castle was left to handle most of the baby duties.
Of course, he didn't mind.
Not only was he financially stable enough to afford the best baby supplies, but he also had no desire to let Beckett lose her figure by breastfeeding for too long.
Instead, they had switched to a mix of cow's milk and goat's milk, which—given Castle's absurd wealth—was top-tier, high-quality stuff.
Castle wasn't about to let his wife's body change too much.
After all, who would suffer most if Beckett's curves disappeared?
Him.
He would.
So, while Beckett worked…
Castle stayed home, fully immersed in baby mode.
The only other man who understood his struggles?
John Wick.
The two former badasses now spent their days discussing diapers, feeding schedules, and sleep training.
At some point, Castle had even jokingly asked:
"Hey, John, remember when we used to talk about guns and assassinations? Now we talk about baby formula and teething rings."
John had simply nodded.
"Life changes, Rick."
And Castle couldn't argue with that.
As all of this unfolded, however…
In the Middle East, the first five AC-130 gunships modified by Lockheed Martin had just been delivered to the U.S. military.
And Castle?
Castle was blissfully unaware, far too busy figuring out how to properly swaddle his son.
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