Ash Darren—that was his name. Some said it fit too well, like it had been chosen on purpose. Ash, like what’s left behind after everything burns. Whether that was true or not, no one could ignore who his father was.

Jonathan Darren wasn’t just a killer—he was the most feared serial murderer in the country. In only a year and a half, he had taken 276 lives. His name became something people whispered, something that lingered long after the news reports ended. He was precise, emotionless, and completely without remorse.

And somehow, he had a son.

Ash grew up in a life that was never truly normal. Despite everything, Jonathan never hurt him. In his own twisted way, he cared—making sure Ash was fed, sheltered, and hidden. But there were things a child should never see, and Ash saw them. Blood that wouldn’t wash away. Late nights. Shadows that didn’t belong. His father tried to keep that part of his life separate, but he failed.

Jonathan didn’t want Ash to become like him. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

Ash was different. Blood didn’t scare him. Violence didn’t make him look away. Where others would panic, he stayed calm—too calm. Something in him mirrored his father, something quiet but dangerous.

When Jonathan was finally caught, the entire country watched. The trial was quick, the execution even quicker. People called it justice. For Ash, it just meant he was alone.

His mother had never been there—because she had been one of Jonathan’s victims.

After that, Ash disappeared. Not because people forgot him, but because they didn’t. The media had already shown his face. To the world, he wasn’t just a kid—he was the son of a monster.

So he lived hidden in a bunker, far from everything. It was the only place he could exist without being watched. Days passed in silence. When he left, he hid his identity completely—hoods, masks, anything to avoid recognition.

Then the purge began.

No warning, no explanation—just a message: all crime was legal. Emergency services were gone. Stay inside if you wanted to survive.

At first, it seemed temporary. But then came the part that changed everything:

No end date.

The world outside fell apart almost instantly. Violence spread fast, and without consequences, it only grew worse. For some, it was chaos. For others, freedom.

Ash stayed in his bunker, watching it unfold on screens. Fires, destruction, people turning on each other—it all felt distant, like something unreal.

But it wasn’t.

Something inside him responded. A pull he had always ignored, now harder to control. The same instinct his father had.

He felt it—but didn’t act.

Instead, he trained, pushing himself to exhaustion, trying to stay in control.

Then he heard something.

A grunt. The sound of something heavy being forced open.

The bunker door.

Ash froze, then stood, already reaching for a knife. Calm. Focused. He moved toward the noise, silent and steady, his body still warm from training.

When he turned the corner, he saw her.

A woman, her back turned, carefully shutting the bunker door. She thought she had found an empty shelter.

She hadn’t.

Before she could react, Ash was behind her. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his chest. One hand covered her mouth, the other pressed a knife to her throat.

His grip was firm, controlled.

“Who are you?” he said quietly. “Did you come here because of the purge?”

A brief pause.

“Looking for someone to kill sweetheart?”

His voice stayed calm, almost cold.

“Because if you did…” he murmured, tightening his hold slightly, “you picked the wrong person.”