Fictionlover100

A faint shimmer caught his eyes near the water’s edge. Moonlight danced across the surface, glinting off something that didn’t belong. He froze, ears flicking, muscles recoiling. 

There she was. 

Half-submerged, her raven hair floating across the water, chest rising in uneven breaths. 

A human? 

It was laughable really, as much as everyone liked to say magical beings and humans could coexist peacefully, it just wasn’t true. And for some human to even think step into the borders of a pack’s camp was downright insane. 

Jo inched closer. Her skin… it glimmered faintly, iridescent, almost ethereal. She wasn’t human. But still insane. Insane enough to walk straight into a wolf’s den. That much he could tell instinctively. 

She noticed him at the same time, eyes widening in alarm. An immediate hiss, low and defiant escaped her lips. That’s when he noticed the blood. 

She was in pain. Immense pain at that. The crimson blood blending in with the tranquility of the waters she was in. Across her shoulders were multiple gashes, blisters slowly forming on her arms and Jo swore only frost giants had lips that pale but he decided he was proven wrong today. 

“Who are you?” He said, voice low. 

She flinched but didn’t answer, tensing as if ready to strike. Her tail—or what he assumed was a tail— swished in agitation, water splashing against the rocks. He caught a flicker of claws—or fins?—shining beneath the surface. Jo’s instincts screamed that she was dangerous, unpredictable. 

Yet, despite the warning bells in his mind, he felt drawn. Something in her wary defiance, in the sharp intelligence behind her eyes, pulled at him. He crouched slightly, leaning back into his hind legs, silent, letting her see he wasn’t an immediate threat. 

First mistake. 

The creature lashes out, a reflexive swipe that caught his arm. Another swipe that he barely managed to twist aside, avoiding her. 

“Careful,” he muttered, but his tone was steady, not angry. “I’m not your enemy.” 

Second mistake. 

She glared at him, teeth bared — not in a smile, but in a warning. Water dripped from her hair as she rose slightly her gaze sharp. Jo noticed more injuries then. The bruises along her shoulders, the shallow cut on her side. No human could’ve caused that. 

His mind started feeling a little buzzed, like he just downed a couple of beers. He gravitated towards her slowly and the back of his canine brain, he hears her humming a song. Or whatever it was, it was heavenly. She was heavenly, despite looking fresh out of a brutal fight. 

He stepped closer, slowly, deliberately, trying to shake off the drunk feeling. Seriously, what is that? 

Letting his presence calm her without breaking her space. “You’re hurt,” he said quietly. “You need help.” 

Third mistake.

A split second of looking into her eyes sends a shock down Jo’s spine. 

Siren. 

His mind buzzed. Light, unfocused. 

Her humming swelled, soft and dangerous. 

Beautiful. Too beautiful. 

Fuck, am I seriously going to die here? 

“You need help.” He tries again, sounding more helpless than before. 

For a moment, she hesitated, as if weighing the truth in his words against her survival instinct. And his head felt lighter all of a sudden, as if he was knocked out of the trance. Then, with a wary glance toward the forest behind him, she sank back slightly into the water, almost imperceptibly, conceding a fragile truce. 

Jo’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t leave her there—not like this. Not in his territory. After all, that’s what the patrols were for. 

“I’ll take you back to my pack,” Carefully, he extended his arm. “Safe. No one will hurt you there.” He promised. 

Her eyes juggled between him, the water and back to him again. There was defiance, yes, but also something… a flicker of trust. 

“Fine,” she murmured, almost reluctantly. 

Jo allowed himself a small, controlled exhale. 

The den stirred the moment Jo stepped into the clearing. His arms ached from carrying her, but he ignored it, pushing through the tense stares that followed him. 

Wolves stirred from their dens, some already baring their teeth. 

Murmurs rose like a storm. 

“Is that a siren?”

“What the hell was he thinking bringing her here?” 

“She’ll kill us in our sleep—just wait.” 

Her hair, still dripping with seawater, clung to her pale face. She looked half-dead, yet her eyes never stopped flicking from shadow to shadow, sharp, calculating. 

Nicholas was the first to step forward, jaw tight, eyes dark. 

“You’ve lost your fucking mind Jo,” He spat, circling like he was already preparing to strike. “Bringing that into our camp? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“She’s hurt,” Jo shot back, voice low but firm. “She won’t make it through the night out there.” 

Nicholas sneered. “Good. Let the sea finish what it started.” His gaze slid to her, dripping with venom. “She doesn’t belong here.” 

Harua cut in, pushing past Nicholas. His hands hovered over her wounds, healer’s instincts kicking in. “She’s burned. Frostbite too. These are fatal if untreated.” He looked at Jo, then at the alpha’s den. “She needs care.” 

The tension broke as Euijoo emerged from the shadows. His presence silenced the whispers instantly. The alpha’s gaze was heavy, unreadable as it lingered on the siren in Jo’s arms. 

“Explain.” 

Jo tightened his grip unconsciously, barely meeting his leader’s eyes. “I found her on the border. Injured. She wasn’t attacking — she was barely breathing. I couldn’t leave her.” 

“And the claw marks on your arm?” 

Right. She technically did attack him. 

Euijoo’s expression didn’t change as he continue, “You thought it wise to bring a siren into our den?” 

Dozens of eyes burned into Jo’s back, their silence louder than any growl. 

Jo’s throat worked, but he didn’t look away. “She’ll stay. Just until she’s healed enough to return to the waters.” 

Before Euijoo could respond, Nicholas  stepped forward, growl rumbling low in his chest. “No. She doesn’t get to stay at all.” His fists clenched. “We know what they are. Liars. Manipulators. Killers. You’re letting her put every single one of us at risk!” 

The siren stirred at his words, her lips pulling back in the faintest hiss, “Oh boohoo. Mister big bad wolf trembling at the sight of a siren.” She mumbled but Nicholas noticed it instantly. His temper snapped. 

“The mouth on this one—“ 

He lunged before anyone could stop him. 

Jo shifted immediately, dropping the girl behind him as he intercepted Nicholas. Claws scraped across dirt as the two collided. 

Even half-dead, she still had fight in her. Jo didn’t know if it made her reckless or brave—or both.

“Enough!” Jo snarled, shoving him back. “She’s injured, Nicholas!”

Nicholas’ eyes blazed. “That’s when they’re the most dangerous! You know this Jo.” His voice rose, sharp with hatred. “Or are you so bewitched you can’t even see it?”

Behind Jo, the siren pushed herself unsteadily to her feet, blood still trickling down her arms. She didn’t speak—she didn’t need to. With a sudden flick of her wrist, the air vibrated. A sharp, piercing note cut through the clearing, not loud enough to enthrall, but enough to make Nicholas stumble, covering his ears with a snarl. 

In an instant, Jo was back at her side, bracing her before she could collapse again. 

Nicholas lunged once more, eyes blazing with fury. But this time, Euijoo’s voice cracked through the camp like thunder. 

“Stand down.” 

The weight of the alpha’s command froze them all. Even Nicholas, panting with rage, stopped mid-step. Jo felt his chest tighten. If Euijoo casts her out now, she wouldn’t last an hour out there. But if she stayed… the whole pack could turn on him.

Euijoo’s gaze swept over the girl who was growing paler by the minute, then to Jo, then back to Nicholas. His voice was steady, final. 

“She stays. One night.” 

“She can barely breathe—“ 

“Are you kidding? We’ve lost enough to her kind—” Jo and Nicholas’ voices overlapped.

“One. Night.” Euijoo’s tone cuts them both down. He turned on his heel. “Haura, treat her.” 

Jo exhaled slowly, tension leaving his shoulders. 

“And Jo?” Euijoo called without looking back. “You’re responsible for her. If anything happens to her, and gods forbid anything happens to anyone in my pack, it is your head I’m coming for.” 

He bowed his head in acknowledgement. 

Nicholas’ lips curled back in a snarl- the siren couldn’t help but wonder if his face was just permanently like that—but he didn’t argue again. Instead, he spat on the ground and stalked into his den. 

The siren’s eyes flicked up at Jo, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and anger. And maybe, just maybe, a flicker of trust.

The dawn bled gold through the trees, spilling into the den. The wolves stirred restlessly, though no one lingered too close to the small chamber where the siren lay. 

Harua crouched beside her again, holding a clay bowl of something orange and steaming. “Drink.” He ordered, pressing it into her hands. 

She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. “That smells like death.” 

“You’re going to be closer to death if you don’t drink this. It’ll stop the burns from festering.” Harua said simply, waiting. 

She glared but sipped anyway, grimacing. The colour in her cheeks was brighter than when Jo found her, her indigo scales glistening slightly more than before, though her eyes still carried exhaustion. 

In the common room, Yuma leaned lazily against the wall, voice carrying as he spoke. “They say the tides near the coast are boiling. Whole fishing villages abandoning their boats. Leviathan rising up again.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Sounds like the start of one of those old myths.” 

The siren’s voice cut sharp through the air, stronger than it had been since she arrived. “It’s not a myth. The Shattersea War has begun.” 

Every head turned. 

Jo froze where he stood. Fuma’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened. Nicholas gave a short, humorless laugh, “Of course. Trust a siren to drag war to our doorstep.” 

The siren ignored him, eyes fixed on the wolves around her. “The Leviathans want dominion over all waters. We sang them back into the depths for centuries, but they’ve grown restless. They struck first. My pod…” Her voice cracked slightly, but she forced it steady. “They didn’t survive.” 

The room went still. Even Yuma lost his easy grin. 

Jo felt the words cut through him, but before he could speak, Nicholas stepped forward, sneering. “So what now? You expect us to pity you? To hide you while your kind calls monsters to our shores?”

Her eyes narrowed, a flash of steel. “I didn’t come to beg wolves for pity.” 

In a heartbeat, Jo was between them, his stance low, protective. “Enough,” he growled, voice rougher than he meant. 

Nicholas’ gaze flicked to Jo’s shoulder brushing hers, the instinctive way Jo shielded her without thought, the way Jo’s paws brushed her scaly claws just slightly. His eyes lingered. 

“Interesting.” Nicholas muttered, before storming out. 

Silence hung heavy until Fuma broke it, turning to Euijoo. “If the Shattersea War has begun, keeping her here may be dangerous… but sending her back could be worse.” 

Euijoo’s jaw clenched, He looked at the siren, then at Jo, who hadn’t moved an inch from her side. 

“She stays another night,” the alpha decided. “Then we’ll see.” 

“What? The siren?” 

“You said the siren was only going to be here one night—“

“Euijoo, we’re talking about a siren—“ 

“She doesn’t belong here, she could lure anyone into the sea!”

The pack didn’t bother to hide their whispers. 

Every murmur, every use of that word, pricked at her. Her fingers flexed against the fur makeshift bed Jo had made for her, the faint hum of irritation vibrating in her throat. 

“Siren.” She pushed herself upright, voice sharp and cutting, startling the pack into silence. “You keep saying it as if I’m a threat, as if I’m some monster you need to fear.” She shoved herself fully onto her feet, shoulders squared, News flash: I’m the one who got attacked trying to protect my pod. And I have a name.” 

All eyes shifted to her. Even Jo, though he had been near enough to hear her voice bubbling quietly, froze, pulse hitching. 

“Syrena,” She said, voice firm, carrying over the murmurs. “Not ‘the siren.’ Syrena.” 

“Of course, Syrena.” The alpha breaks the silence. He nods briefly in acknowledgement, “You can stay one more night. And I’m sure you understand when I say: I’m just looking out for the safety of my pack.” 

Jo, already standing beside her, took a careful step closer. “Syrena,” he repeated quietly, testing the word on his tongue. There was something satisfying in saying it aloud, something grounding, refreshing even. 

“Yes. Syrena,’ She confirmed, eyes softening for just a fraction of a second. The faintest hint of relief tugged at her features — finally recognised, finally seen. 

The others—Taki, Maki and K— exchanged uncertain glances, slowly beginning to adjust to the idea of calling her by name. 

Jo stayed close, but the weight of the pack’s tension pressed against him. Before he could settle his thoughts, Fuma appeared next to him, voice low. 

“Jo. A word.”

Jo’s stomach twisted. He glanced at Syrena, whose eyes flickered toward him, sharp and questioning. He didn’t even notice that Syrena had interlaced their fingers together in the commotion.

There’s no way his brother in arms would shred her to pieces while he steps out for a little right? 

“I got her. Go.” Harua says simply, wrapping seaweed against the siren—Syrena’s arms. 

Jo gave her a slight nod, promising he’d return, and followed Fuma into the morning mist. 

Fuma stopped several paces away, folding his arms, his dirty blonde hair looking eerily similar to the golden rays of sunshine peaking through the trees. “I’ve been watching. Since you carried her into camp, you’ve been… different.”

Jo tensed. “She’s injured. I’m keeping her safe. That’s all.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Fuma turned, eyes sharp but not unkind. “You stand like a shield. You hover as though the moment you blink, she’ll vanish. That isn’t duty, Jo. That’s instinct.” 

Jo opened his mouth, closed it. His pulse pounded in his ears. “She’s a siren.” 

Yeah right, as if that changed anything. 

“Yes.” The beta tilted his head slightly. “And yet.” 

The words hung heavy. 

“You think—“ Jo’s vice broke, harsher than intended. “You think she’s—“

“I think,” Fuma interrupted gently, “that the bond between wolf and mate is not something you can ignore forever. Whether you admit it or not, your body already knows.” 

Jo dragged a hand through his hair, placing a short line across the forest floor. “That can’t be. Not with her. She’s a siren.” 

“Instinct doesn’t care for reason,” Fuma said, “But Jo… if it’s true, it will divide the pack. Even now, with half the pack glaring daggers at her—your instincts don’t lie. You need to think about what that means. Nico already feels the tension. And you know he’ll only push harder.” 

Jo pressed his lips together, chest tight. He could still feel the faint weight of her in his arms from last night, the way her voice cut like silver when she hissed back at Nicholas. Fragile, curious and stubbornly alive. 

Thinking back about it now, Fuma was right. If it were anyone else, Jo figured he wouldn’t think twice, not allowing anything near his pack’s borders. He valued their safety over anything else, his brothers. 

Fuma laid a hand on his shoulder, steady. “You need to decide how far you’re willing to go for her.” 

The beta glanced at the alpha’s den once, and it’s enough for Jo to understand. 

“Before Euijoo decides for you.” 

Jo nodded slowly, tension coiling in his chest watching Fuma melt away into the morning mist. Jo exhaled sharply, rubbing at his temple before turning back toward the den. Syrena was still sitting there, furs wrapped loosely around her, eyes flicking between the wolves and the clearing beyond. 

He approached carefully, trying not to look too tense. “You… don’t have to worry about them right now,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.” 

Syrena’s violet eyes lifted to him, narrowing slightly. “I’ve been fine without a pack watching my every move.” The way she puts pressure on the word ‘pack’ makes him flinch slightly, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Don’t start hovering.” 

“I’m not hovering,” he insists almost sounding like a child whining, voice low, leaning against the doorway. “I’ll just…be nearby.” 

Before they could settle, Taki and Maki padded into the clearing, ears perked, tails flicking. Their eyes widened at the sight of her. 

“So siren…” Taki says slowly. 

Syrena’s lips twitched in irritation.

Taki is quick to correct himself, “Oh… right. Sorry, Syrena.”

K finally emerged, moving silently as shadows, and observed her quietly. He didn’t say a word, eyes moving between Syrena and Jo, studying the way Jo stood protectively near her. The faintest crease fired between his brows neutral, but thoughtful.

Syrena, sensing the scrutiny, shifted slightly, standing taller. “You all look like you’re trying to decode if I’m going to eat you or not,” she said dryly. Jo’s chest tightened at the tension in her voice. Fuma has been right— his wolf knew before his mind did. 

Taki and Maki exchanged uncertain glances, then nodded hesitantly, “Well Syrena…” Maki says her name like it left a foreign taste in his mouth, “Usually wolves are the ones who do the eating?” He tried for a joke to which Syrena returns with a soft giggle which she masks quickly by coughing. 

Jo swore it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, his head snapping to look at her with a smile plastered on his face. 

Harua, returning from tending to supplies, carried a small bowl with one of his gross concoctions. “Drink this,” he instructed, gently pressing it toward Syrena. “It’ll help with the burns and bruises.”

Syrena sniffed at it, eyes begging Jo for help, then back at the bowl like it personally offended her. “You wolves are obsessed with making me eat weird things,” she muttered, but took the bowl anyways. 

“You’ll get used to it.” He said softly, his lips twitching. 

Syrena raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it.” 

“Want me to hold your hand while you drink it?”

“I’m not a child.” 

He reached out stubbornly anyways, cocking his head when she hesitated. Eventually she reached just for his pinky, squeezing tighter when she savours the pungent taste of Harua’s medicine. “Gods, that’s nasty.” 

The pack lingered in the clearing, some whispering quietly to each other, some openly watching her every move. Jo was the latter, shamelessly watching her, feeling giddy like Syrena was still bewitching him with her song. But this time, it felt natural. So natural. Too natural.

It was uneasy truce but for now, the morning passed without incident. 

Even as the sun rose higher, Syrena’s eyes occasionally flicked towards the distant coastline, a subtle tension beneath her calm exterior. Jo noticed, and felt the faint pull of instinct, unacknowledged but undeniable. 

The Shattersea War was beginning and with it, everything was about to change—  for Syrena, for Jo, and for the entire pack. 

The den was quiet now, the low murmur of the pack outside fading with each footstep that disappeared into the forest. Jo stayed close to Syrena crouching near the edge of her makeshift bed. He kept his hands to himself at first, pretending to examine the still-healing bruises along her shoulders. 

Syrena tilted her head, violet eyes catching his yellow ones in the soft morning light. “I thought I told you not to hover.” She said, tone teasing, but not harsh. “I’m fine. You don’t need to…patrol my every breath.” 

Jo’s fingers twitched over the fading marks on her skin. “I…I’m just making sure you’re okay,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze. But even as he said it, the back of his mind hummed with something he didn’t fully understand. Every instinct in his wolf stirred when he leaned a little closer, when his shoulder brushed against hers, subtle warmth thrumming beneath his skin. 

“You act like I’m fragile or something. I’ve been through worse than this.” She flicked her hair back, revealing a faint scar along her collarbone, a memory of a battle fought long before she came here. 

“I know,” Jo said, voice low. But the tightening in his chest betrayed him. “It’s… not that.”

A faint shift of energy, almost imperceptible, passed between them. His pulse thudded in rhythm with hers. Jo swallowed hard, realising just how sharply his wolf reacted to her presence, to the scent, to the sound of her breathing. His throat went dry. 

This is… not normal. 

Syrena leaned back slightly, resting her hands on the fur. “Well,” She said softly, eyes glimmering with amusement, “If you insist on hovering… I guess you can. But only if you really do insist.”

Jo’s lips twitched in a smile before he cleared his throat. 

A sudden voice broke the moment. Yuma’s easy tone carried from the doorway, a grin plastered on his face. “Hear ye, hear ye. I bring magical gossip: I hear the tides are boiling again. Leviathans spotted near the northern reef. Must be the start of something big, huh?” 

Syrena’s gaze sharpened instantly, “It’s not the start.,” She corrected, voice firm, each word measured. “The Shattersea War has already begun. The Leviathans attacked first.” 

Yuma whistled low, eyes now pointed towards the floor, “Well, that escalated fast.” 

“I don’t know why Euijoo is letting you linger here.” Nicholas appears from the shadows, his gaze fixed on Syrena, sharp and dangerous. “Do you think your presence won’t draw the Leviathans straight to our shores? Do you really think this pack will survive if they sense a siren on land?” 

Jo’s hackles rose slightly, “Nico, back off.” 

Nicholas ignored him, eyes rolling. “I don’t care about your feelings for her, Jo. I’m talking about survival. The surface and the underwater worlds have never fought directly… but with the tensions rising now, never say never. And you know this.” 

Syrena’s violet eyes met his, unblinking, not an inch of fear in them, “Then you understand why I was attacked,” She said quietly. “This isn’t just about me. It’s war.” 

A silence fell, thick and tense, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on them all. Jo glanced at Syrena, at Nicholas, at Yuma who was trying—albeit, unsuccessfully—to lighten the mood. 

Fuma’s earlier words echoed in his mind: Instinct doesn’t care for reason. 

The air in the den thickened as Yuma’s probing shifted from the Leviathans to something sharper. 

“You keep saying your pod was attacked,” One of his ears flopped down and one remained upright, “But I’ve heard whispers, even in our world . The Leviathans aren’t just picking fights at random. They’re targeting kingdoms. Thrones.”

Syrena’s breath caught. Jo noticed — the tiniest hitch in her throat, the way her fingers clenched the blanket tighter. 

“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” she began carefully, eyes fixed on the brown muck that Harua made earlier for her, “But Leviathans don’t move without reason. They want power. Sirens… we have kingdoms beneath the waves. Unlike merfolk who rules the calm waters, sirens govern the deep. Where the currents are treacherous and power comes from voice and bloodline. Lines of succession. Crowns that matter. ” 

Nicholas couldn’t help but bare his fangs, “And where do you fit into that picture?”

Silence stretched. The pack waited, every breath sharp with anticipation. Jo felt his heart proud, his wolf pressing against his chest like it already knew the answer. He was sure the rest of his pack, with their sharpened hearing, could hear it too.

Finally, Syrena exhaled, shoulders sinking as If the weight of the ocean itself sat on her back. “I am… or was… Princess of the Coral Spire. My family ruled the eastern waters for generations.” Her voice wavered. “They’re gone now. Every one of them slaughtered.” 

Her voice cracked on the last word, the sound small and human in a way Jo had never heard from her before.

The room froze. 

Jo couldn’t stay still. His wolf growled low, a warning he barely controlled. “You… You’re royalty,” he repeated. Voice rough. 

Yuma muttered a low curse. Taki’s eyes widened, while K remained impassive, though the muscle in his jaw twitched. Nicholas’ face was carved from stone, though something flickered in his eyes—recognition, perhaps even fear. 

And then Euijoo stepped in. The alpha’s presence filled the room like a storm rolling over the sea. “So the Leviathans aren’t just hunting sirens,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing on Syrena. “They’re hunting you.”

Her gazed flicked up , defiant despite the tremor in her voice. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t ask to be born to a crown. But they won’t stop until I’m dead. And if they can’t find me… they’ll kill anyone who harbours me.” 

That was the breaking point. 

The alpha’s voice came out sharp, decisive, the tone that brooked no argument. “Then you cannot stay here.” 

Jo’s chest constricted. “What?” 

“By sundown, she leaves,” Euijoo continued, eyes never leaving Syrena. “I will not risk the safety of this pack, not for one outsider. Not when her presence paints a target on all of us.” 

Jo stepped forward, “She’s not just some outsider—"

“Enough,” Euijoo snapped, silencing the room, “I’ve been kind enough Jo. She is to leave by sundown.” 

The alpha turned to his pack, voice carrying the weight of command. “Maki, Taki, Yuma, K— you’ll scour the ridges and the forest lines. I want eyes everywhere by nightfall. Fuma, Jo and Harua, you’re with me— we need to fortify the eastern den. As for you—“ His gaze cut like ice towards Nicholas, “You’ll stay behind. Patrol the shore. Guard our main den.” 

Nicholas bristled, hatred flashing in his eyes, “With all due respect, Alpha—"

Euijoo spared him a quick glance which made the wolf dip his head in reluctant obedience. 

Jo’s throat tightened as he glanced at Syrena. Her face betrayed nothing, but her hands twisted in the blanket, and he could sense it—the sting beneath her calm. The rejection. The dismissal.

Euijoo’s voice softened slightly, though it still carried steel. “And you. You will leave before the moon rises, Syrena. For your safety… and for ours.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any roar. Syrena didn’t argue. She only looked at Jo, and that was enough to make the air hurt.

The pack dispersed, tension hanging like fog in the cavern. Jo stayed rooted in place, his wolf clawing at him, demanding he fight. Demanding he choose.

And Syrena, sitting small yet unyielding by the fire, met his gaze with quiet defiance.

Her eyes shimmered faintly under the low light, like deep-sea catching flame. Every instinct in him howled at the sight- don’t let her go. His chest tightened, the pull sharp, primal. He turned away before the sound escaped him. 

Fuma lingered by the entrance, watching him. “You should breathe,” he murmured. 

Jo’s hands flexed at his sides. “He can’t just send her off,” he said, too low, too rough. “She’s still healing. If the rival pods are hunting her—"

“Then Euijoo’s not wrong,” Fuma interrupted softly. “They’ll come for her. And when they do, they’ll find us standing in their way.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Jo’s voice broke through the air like a snarl. He caught himself immediately, shoulders tense. “She doesn’t have a home anymore. She won’t survive out there alone. Not like this.”

“Then what would you have him do?” Fuma’s eyes glinted — calm but heavy with meaning. “Keep her here? In our den? You know what that means, Jo.”

Jo didn’t answer. He just started into the fire. The light flickered across his face, revealing the faint tremor beneath his calm. Fuma sighed, stepping closer, lowering his voice.

“Your wolf is loud tonight,” he said. “Too loud to pretend.” 

Jo shot him a warning look. “Don’t start.” 

“Jo.” 

The alpha’s tone. Commanding, sharp. 

Jo swallowed, forcing his wolf down, and followed Euijoo into the adjoining chamber. The air was colder there, quieter. Euijoo stood with his back turned, staring out toward the forest through a narrow opening in the rock. 

“You disagree with my decision.” It wasn’t a question. 

Jo stayed silent. 

Euijoo turned, gaze piercing. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her?” 

“I’m just—"

“Protective,” Euijoo finished for him, stepping closer. “I’ve seen you protect pack mates. This is different.” 

Jo’s jaw flexed. His wolf shifted beneath his skin, restless. 

“Fuma tells me your instincts are acting up,” the alpha continued. “And now I understand why.” 

Jo’s eyes flashed gold for a heartbeat. He forced them back. He can’t know yet.

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me what it is,” Euijoo challenged. “Because I’ve led this pack long enough to know when a wolf’s found his mate.”

The words hit like a blow. Jo’s breath caught, his pulse hammering in his throat. 

Euijoo’s exhaled slowly, expression unreadable. “A siren, Jo? Of all creatures beneath the waves…” 

“I didn’t choose this,” Jo growled. “You think I want it? You think I asked for it?” 

Euijoo’s tone stayed firm. “No one ever does . But what we do choose is how we protect what’s ours.” He stepped closer, gaze heavy with the weight of command. “You’d risk the pack for her. I can see it in you.” 

Jo’s silence was answer enough. 

The alpha nodded once— a quiet verdict. “She leaves by sundown. That’s final.” 

Jo’s wolf lunged inside him, clawing against his ribs, but he held still, knuckles white. “At least, don’t leave her with him.” His wolf reacted before he could, the hostility when he remembered Euijoo’s orders of wanting Nicholas to stay back with Syrena at the den. “Let me do it.” 

“Question my orders one more time Jo,” Euijoo said firmly. “You’ll find yourself out of the pack with your mate.” 

Jo wanted to argue, to tear the words apart— but one look at the alpha told him it would be useless. He bowed his head, the gesture stiff, restrained. 

Euijoo’s voice softened just slightly. “Whatever bond your wolf feels? Control it. The pack’s safety comes first. Always.” 

When Jo left the chamber, the firelight hit him again — warm and soft against the storm still raging in his chest.

Syrena was still by the fire, tracing faint shapes in the air with her fingers, her face lit by the glow. Nicholas leaned nearby, watching her with that sharp, wary edge that never quite left his eyes. 

Jo’s wolf stirred again — that same relentless, instinctive pull toward her. 

And he knew, as the sun began to set, that having her leave by sundown would destroy him long before it ever broke her. 

By the time the camp settled, the morning light had deepened to gold. Most of the pack had drifted toward their assigned posts, their murmurs fading into the forest hum. Only Syrena remained near the dying fire, wrapping her few belongings into a tattered satchel. 

Jo lingered by the entrance, arms crossed, heart unsteady. Every movement she made drew attention — not from curiosity, but because his instincts sparked at every flicker of her breath. 

She winced, a quiet hiss slipping past her lips as she tried to lift a water flask. Before he could think, Jo was already at her side, taking it from her hands. 

“I’ve got it,” he said softly. 

She blinked, “What did I say about hovering, wolf?”

He hesitated, his hand still brushing hers. “Maybe I don’t have a choice.” 

For a moment, neither spoke. The forest outside thrummed with cicadas, the silence between them sharp and delicate. 

Syrena looked away first, her jaw tense. “Why do you care so much?” she asked, almost a whisper. “You should be glad I’m leaving. Less trouble for your pack.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” he said, too quickly.

Her eyes flicked up, studying him. “You’re strange.”

“I get that a lot,” he said, smiling faintly.

Her lips twitched, returning the smile for a split second. But then her gaze dropped, distant. “The sea doesn’t forgive easily,” she murmured. “When the Shattersea War began, I thought I’d be the one to lead them home. I thought… if I sang loud enough, maybe they’d listen.” She trailed off, swallowing hard. “But the water only answered with silence.”

The sound of her voice only lingered, low and salt-bitten, like a tide retreating too soon.

Jo’s chest tightened. He wanted to reach out, to ease that ache in her voice, but something about her stillness warned him off. “You still hum when you sleep,” he said instead, quietly. “I can hear it from the next room.”

Her head snapped up, a flush gracing her cheeks. “That’s— it’s not meant for wolves to hear.”

“Maybe it was meant for me,” he said simply.

The air stilled. Something fragile and warm passed between them — unspoken, unacknowledged, but real.

Jo reached into his belt and pulled free a small pendant, carved from pale bone and tied with worn leather. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “For protection.”

“It’s beautiful.” 

“It’s been passed down for generations in my family. It’s a little silly, but I like to think it keeps me safe.” He reached for the back of his head, scratching his neck.

“It’s not silly.” Syrena frowned, uncertain. “But you trust me with this?”

“You saved your pod,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

Her fingers brushed his when she took it. The faint jolt of contact made his breath catch — the wolf inside him howled in recognition. He steadied himself. She noticed, gaze flicking briefly to his hand before looking away, pretending not to.

“I’ll make sure it’s returned,” she murmured.

“I’m not worried about that,” he said.

When he turned to leave, she caught him watching her once more. Her expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “Jo,” she said, voice low.

He paused.

“Thank you.”

He nodded once, unable to trust his voice.

He lingered a heartbeat longer, watching her fingers trace the pendant before turning away.

Outside, the others were already preparing for patrol. Euijoo stood by the treeline, issuing quiet orders. 

Jo took his place beside Fuma, still feeling the ghost of her touch against his palm.

She was leaving by sundown. He told himself that was for the best.

But his wolf — his damn wolf — didn’t believe it.

By late afternoon, the sky had turned the colour of old copper. The waves were restless, crashing harder than usual against the shore below the den, a low growl that matched the tension in the air.

Most of the pack was already gone—their howls distant echoes fading into the forest and ridge lines. Only the faintest scents of their trails lingered in the air. The silence they left behind felt too wide, too heavy.

Syrena sat near the mouth of the cave, the pendant Jo had given her now tied loosely around her wrist. The fire beside her was nothing more than embers now, glowing faintly against her pale skin. She stared at the horizon as if the sea might call her back—or come to claim her.

Nicholas stood a few paces behind, arms crossed, his gaze flicking between her and the water. He had been silent for most of the afternoon, his usual sharpness dulled into something unreadable.

“You don’t have to stare holes into my back,” Syrena murmured, without turning. “If you want to say something, say it.”

Nicholas exhaled through his nose. “I don’t trust you.”

“I gathered.”

“You’re dangerous,” he continued, stepping closer. “Not because of what you can do. Because of what follows you.”

She finally turned, meeting his glare with unnerving calm. “You think I don’t know that?”

His jaw tightened. “Then why stay here? Why let him—” he stopped himself, biting the word short.

Her brow arched. “Let him what?”

“Get attached.” The words left him like a growl. “You saw what this does to him. To his wolf. He can’t even look at you without fighting himself.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if the thought hadn’t fully formed until now. “That’s not my doing.”

Nicholas took another step forward. “Maybe not. But if the Leviathans are after you, they’ll come here. They’ll tear through this place to find you. And Jo—he’ll tear through us to protect you.”

Something in his tone — not quite hatred, not quite fear — made her glance back at the horizon again.

Nicholas was about to retort again when the air shifted.

A low rumble, almost imperceptible at first, rolled through the cave floor. The kind of vibration that came not from above — but below. From the sea.

Nicholas froze. His wolf senses sharpened instantly, nostrils flaring. 

“You feel that?”

“Fuck.” Syrena’s expression darkened. “They’ve found me.”

Outside, the waves began to churn. Foam hissed up the rocks as the tide surged higher, unnatural in its rhythm. From the depths, something shimmered — faint lights, like will-o’-wisps flickering beneath the surface.

Nicholas swore under his breath, unsheathing the blade strapped to his thigh “How many?”

Syrena stood, her body already humming with the faint glow of siren power. “Three... maybe four scouts. But they’re not alone. They never are.”

“Jo should’ve been the one to stay,” Nicholas muttered, eyes scanning the shoreline.

Her gaze flicked toward him, unreadable. “No. You were right, Nicholas. You don’t trust me. You don’t have any reason to.”

The first shape broke the surface — a slick, scaled form, humanoid in silhouette but monstrous in motion. A Leviathan scout, eyes glowing faintly blue. Then another, and another, rising from the tide. 

“Let me handle this.” Syrena braced herself, her hands curling. 

Nicholas crouched low, growl tearing from his throat. “Get back.”

Syrena ignored him, stepping forward as her voice deepened, carrying a resonance that wasn’t human — ancient and commanding. The air vibrated, the water answering her call.

She whispered just loud enough for Nicholas to react just in time, “Back.”

The nearest Leviathan flinched, its glowing eyes dimming momentarily — but not retreating. It hissed, a shriek that split the air, and the next wave crashed with explosive force.

Nicholas was thrown back, barely catching his footing. “That’s your idea of warning?”

Syrena’s eyes burned violet. “That was mercy.”

And as the waves surged again, her song rose — not gentle this time, but furious, the sound of a storm breaking free.

The song tore through the cove — sharp, violent, heartbreakingly beautiful. Nicholas staggered against the stone wall, one hand pressed to his ear. The air itself seemed to warp under the siren’s voice, her power spilling like liquid silver across the ground.

Three Leviathans circled in the surf, their scaled forms glistening like oil. They hissed when she sang, recoiling — but each wave brought them closer.

Syrena’s chest rose and fell, her voice faltering for a heartbeat. She steadied herself, blood trickling from the corner of her lip. The song turned harsher, less melody now and more fury, a weapon aimed at the creatures clawing their way onto the rocks.

“You psycho siren,” Nicholas gritted his teeth. “You’ll draw the whole ocean down on us!” he growled, though she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the tide.

The first Leviathan lunged.

Nicholas moved before he thought — instincts older than logic taking over. He met it mid-surge, blade flashing, claws bursting through his knuckles. The creature’s hide was thick, scales like armor. He barely sank steel into it before it slammed him into the rock wall, his ribs cracking under the force.

He spat blood, rolling to his feet just as Syrena’s voice cut through the air again. The Leviathan jerked back — for half a second, its eyes went dull.

“Move!” she shouted, her voice trembling with the effort.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He ducked just as she lifted both hands, the sea behind her rising in a single, massive swell. The wave crashed down on the Leviathans with bone-breaking force, slamming them back into the surf.

But the victory was short-lived.

Syrena stumbled, her knees hitting the stone, a pained gasp tearing from her throat. Her gills flared weakly along her neck, struggling to draw breath in the dry air. The glow in her eyes flickered — once, twice — before dimming.

Nicholas saw it. Saw how she faltered. How the song, once earth-shattering, was now barely more than a broken hum.

And he did what wolves did best — he assessed.

One siren. Three Leviathans. A broken tide.

She wasn’t going to last.

He wanted to let her fall. Let the sea reclaim her and spare the pack the trouble. But then, in the haze of salt and blood, Jo’s face flashed in his mind. The way his voice had cracked when he said, She won’t survive alone. 

Nicholas cursed under his breath, leaping back into the fray. “Damn it, Jo.”

He lunged back into the fight, slashing through the next Leviathan’s flank. The creature screeched, thrashing, its tail knocking Nicholas off his feet — but he rolled, came up snarling, eyes blazing gold.

Behind him, Syrena tried to stand, her hands trembling, her voice trembling between notes. Her power sparked and faded like a dying flame.

When the next wave of Leviathans broke the surface, Nicholas realised how bad it was. Not three. Not four. At least six now, their glowing eyes cutting through the dark water like lanterns.

“Alright that’s enough,” he growled, blood slicking his teeth. He tilted his head back and let loose a howl — low and long and desperate.

It tore through the forest. A sound no wolf made lightly. A call for help.

The echo rolled through the cliffs, through the trees, through the hearts of every wolf who heard it.

Far in the distance, Jo froze mid-step. His pulse spiked, his wolf answering before he could even think.

Fuma’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “That was Nicholas.”

Jo didn’t wait for orders. He was already running.

Back at the shore, Nicholas dropped to one knee, breathing hard. His claws were slick with blood — his own and theirs. Syrena was still standing somehow, but barely. Her song had quieted to a whisper now, barely enough to hold the monsters back.

Nicholas glanced at her, chest heaving. “If you die,” he said between breaths, “he’ll never forgive me.”

She looked up, eyes dazed. “Then fucking fight, wolf.”

He smirked — half a snarl, half a grin. “You’re not giving orders down here, Princess.”

And then he was moving again, diving into the chaos, just as the next wave crashed and the first responding howls echoed back through the trees.

The forest answered him. One howl became three. Then five. Closer.

But the sea didn’t wait.

The Leviathans surged as one, dark bodies slicing through the black water. Syrena barely had time to react before one tail coiled around her leg, dragging her back toward the foam. She screamed, almost sounding scarily human — shattering against the stone walls of the cove.

Nicholas lunged after her. His claws caught the creature’s hide, tearing deep, but another Leviathan slammed into him from the side. His body hit the rocks hard enough to rattle the cliffs.

He staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his face, and then—

He let go.

His body arched, bones snapping and reshaping, muscles rippling under his skin as the change overtook him. The air shimmered around him, the scent of iron and wild earth thickening.

Where the man had stood, a wolf rose — huge, powerful, his fur a deep shade of sangria red that caught the dim light like fire. His eyes burned gold.

The wolf leapt into the fray.

He tore through the nearest Leviathan, teeth sinking into its throat, ripping scales from flesh. But there were too many. For every monster he threw down, another rose from the depths.

Syrena’s song faltered again — weaker now, barely holding the tide. One of the beasts wrapped around her waist, pulling her down into the surf. Her fingers clawed at the rocks, the saltwater turning red where her nails broke.

Nicholas howled, the sound raw and furious, echoing through the storm. He charged — slamming into the creature that held her, snapping its neck in one brutal motion.

But as he tried to drag her free, another Leviathan struck from behind, its tail whipping across his side. The wolf crashed into the stone, bones cracking, blood splattering against the wet rock.

Syrena reached for him, voice trembling. “Nicholas—!”

Then the sea exploded.

A wall of black water rose behind her — Leviathans dragging her under, claws raking down her arms and back. Her scream drowned under the roar of the surf.

Nicholas lunged forward again, but the current hit too fast, too hard. The wave swallowed her whole, pulling her from his reach. He howled after her — a desperate, broken sound — before three more Leviathans surrounded him.

For a moment, all he could see was movement. Teeth. Claws. Water. Blood.

Then —

A flash of silver.

A blur tore through the first Leviathan, ripping it apart like paper. Another slammed into the shore, dead before it hit the rocks.

From above the treeline, a massive wolf landed — fur pale as moonlight, eyes like steel. K.

He didn’t pause. His claws met scale, and the air filled with the sound of monsters dying.

More shapes burst through the trees — one sleek and dark, one golden, and another massive, with eyes that glowed the color of burning amber.

Euijoo. Fuma. Jo.

The pack had arrived.

The Leviathans hesitated — for a heartbeat, even monsters understood fear.

Jo’s wolf didn’t. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even look at the others.

He tore straight past them — straight toward the sea.

Straight toward her.

Syrena was barely visible now, her body tossed by the waves, her blood painting the surf pink. One Leviathan still had her, dragging her deeper.

Jo’s wolf hit the water before anyone could stop him, his snarl echoing through the storm. The sea hissed where he landed, foam burning against his fur.

Nicholas tried to rise, staggering, his breath coming ragged. “Jo—!”

But Jo didn’t hear. Couldn’t. He was already gone — swallowed by the sea and fury and the bond that refused to die.

The moment Jo disappeared beneath the surface, the pack howled — the sound fractured, raw, and helpless.

The Leviathans didn’t retreat quietly. The remaining beasts writhed and lunged, their tails slamming against the rocks, furious that their prey had been stolen from them.

K’s wolf met them first, white fur streaked with blood and seawater. His claws sank into a Leviathan’s eye socket, tearing through scale and flesh. Beside him, Euijoo’s wolf — darker, broader — pinned another down while Fuma leapt over his back, jaws finding the creature’s throat.

Nicholas staggered to his feet, ribs aching, vision blurred from blood. He watched the surf — watched the sea churn where Jo had vanished — and his heart lurched.

He took a step forward.

Fuma’s snarl stopped him cold.

“Don’t.” The word came through his teeth, half-growl, half-command. He shifted back to his human form, chest heaving, blood slick down his neck. “You’ll drown before you find him.”

“He’s in there!” Nicholas spat, voice breaking. His wolf eyes still glowed, the instinct to protect screaming in his veins.

Fuma grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back as another Leviathan lunged. “And you’ll be next if you keep this up. We’re wolves, Nicholas. Land-born. We don’t belong below.”

“But—”

“Enough!” Fuma slammed him against the rock wall. “The old laws are clear — the land does not interfere with the sea. They crossed that line first, and they’ll pay the price. We can’t.”

Nicholas’s jaw clenched. He could still hear the faint echo of Jo’s snarl somewhere beneath the crashing waves — or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks. “So we just let him die?”

“We hold the line,” Fuma said, voice low, heavy. “It’s what he’d do for us.”

Euijoo’s wolf barked sharply — a sound that cut through the chaos. The Leviathans were retreating, slinking back into the depths now that their prey had vanished below. Their scaled backs slipped under the foam, disappearing into darkness.

For the first time, the den went quiet.

Only the wind howled now.

Euijoo shifted back, his expression unreadable as he walked toward the shallows. He crouched by the edge, blood dripping from his arm into the water.

“Jo,” he called quietly. The Alpha tone in his voice cracked for the first time that night. “If you can hear me… come back.”

The sea didn’t answer. Only waves rolled in, lapping at the rocks like nothing had happened.

Behind him, Nicholas dropped to one knee, breathing hard. Fuma stood beside him, scanning the horizon. K shifted back, pressing a hand to a gash across his chest, his pale hair soaked red.

Moments later, more howls echoed through the forest — higher, lighter tones this time. The rest of the pack.

Yuma arrived first, panting hard, followed by Maki and Taki — their faces pale at the sight before them. Harua brought up the rear, carrying a medic’s satchel that looked far too small for the blood spilling onto the rocks.

“Where’s Jo?” Yuma asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Euijoo didn’t look up. His eyes were fixed on the dark water. “Under.”

Harua dropped beside Nicholas immediately, checking his side where crimson soaked through fur and skin. “You’re lucky,” he muttered, pressing a cloth to the wound. “A few inches deeper and you’d be shark food.”

Nicholas didn’t respond. His eyes were still on the waves, his body trembling from exhaustion and something colder.

Fuma dragged a hand through his soaked hair. “We need to regroup. Get everyone back to the den.”

K nodded, grim. “He’ll come back.”

It was a statement, not a question — but no one said it aloud that they all felt the same cold fear:

What if he didn’t?

Euijoo lingered one last moment at the water’s edge. The Alpha inside him warred with the man. His instinct told him to dive — to tear the sea apart until he found his pack mate. But the magic that held the world in balance thrummed beneath the surface, whispering warning through the salt.

The land and the sea do not cross. Not without consequence.

He exhaled, slow and heavy, before turning away. “Back to the den,” he ordered, voice low. “Now.”

The pack obeyed — limping, bleeding, carrying one another through the forest.

Behind them, the sea rolled on. Calm now. Almost serene.

But deep beneath, where no wolf could follow, the storm had only just begun.

Jo’s limbs thrashed against the pull of the water, panic clawing at him as salt stung his eyes. The world had become a blur of green and grey, scales and shadows slipping past, teeth glinting in the low light. He could barely see Syrena, only hear the sharp cadence of her voice cutting through the churn.

“Jo! Focus!” she shouted, her tail slicing through the currents with impossible grace. “Move with me!”

He wanted to, he tried — but his lungs screamed, his body uselessly flailing. The Leviathans circled, dragging him toward the jagged coastline with enormous claws and jagged teeth.

Before he could respond, she was in front of him, hand on his chest. The water around them shimmered with an unnatural glow, scales along her arms glinting like molten violet. Her lips brushed his in a sudden, electrifying kiss. It was soft, insistent, grounding — and in that instant, everything shifted.

Then, instinct flared. His wolf — dormant until now — erupted in a surge of awareness and strength, muscles coiling, limbs extending. He gasped, and something strange happened: his throat didn’t burn. His lungs filled. He could… breathe.

Syrena’s violet eyes widened as she saw him adapt, her hand reaching out. “The myth,” she said, voice trembling with awe and disbelief. “Jo… if a siren kisses you—” 

Jo felt his wolf surge fully, instincts melding with reason. Power coursed through him like fire in water, his body stronger, faster, attuned to the currents. His lungs, now filled effortlessly, allowed him to dive deeper, push harder. He grabbed Syrena’s hand, spinning to dodge a Leviathan’s tail that smashed where they had been seconds before.

She laughed, a sound of triumph and relief, her own energy flaring. Royal power surged from her, the water obeying her, swirling in whorls of violet and silver. Scales glinted like armour, her eyes catching glints of light even under the dark waves.

Together, they moved as one — Jo’s wolf instincts guiding every strike, Syrena’s magic bending the water to their will. They slammed into the Leviathans, claws and tail and song merging into something terrifyingly beautiful. A few of the beasts twisted upward, their massive bodies breaching the surface with deafening crashes, water spraying high into the sky.

Syrena’s hands glowed faintly, her power unfurling through her veins like the ocean itself obeying her command. She kicked, twisting, sending a Leviathan careening backward with a force that shook the water. Her fins — subtle now, but strong — sliced through the currents, summoning energy from the very depths.

Jo followed her lead, instinct and wolf-power guiding his movements. They were a whirlwind of water and strength, a force neither of them fully understood, yet perfectly in sync. Every motion she made sparked something inside him, his claws raking scales, his jaws snapping with unnatural precision.

Above, the wolves on land erupted into action. Euijoo, Fuma, and K barreled into the surf, claws slicing through water, muscles taut with urgency. Jo barely had time to acknowledge them, focused entirely on keeping Syrena safe, letting her lead, letting their bond guide him.

Her hands found his again in the chaos, and the touch — electric, grounding — steadied him. “We can do this,” she whispered, her voice carrying authority, calm and deadly.

For the first time, Jo realized: she wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t just a siren in need of protection. She was his equal — powerful, unstoppable, and bound to him in a way that made the impossible feel like instinct.

A Leviathan’s tail swung toward Syrena, and without thinking, Jo shot forward, barreling into it, knocking the creature back with a force that made the water roar around them. He heard the low growl of his wolf surge inside, sharper than ever before.

Syrena twisted, striking again — a strike so powerful it cracked the surface, sending sprays of foam over Euijoo and Fuma as they lunged into the fray.

Even amid the chaos, a strange clarity settled over Jo. He understood her now — her power, her fear, her determination — and something fierce and possessive coiled in him. No one would take her. Not the Leviathans. Not anyone.

As the last few of the smaller Leviathans surged to the surface, gasping and struggling, Jo and Syrena lunged together — a coordinated force neither had ever known — and landed in the shallow water with a crash that shook the rocks.

Above, the pack howled, circling, joining in with renewed purpose. Together, eight wolves and two bonded mates against the tide, they finally had the upper hand.

Jo looked at Syrena, her hair fanning like ink in the water, eyes bright with victory and relief. And for the first time, he let himself truly see her — not as someone to guard, not as a siren in need, but as his mate.

And she looked at him, and the corners of her lips tilted upward, faint, almost shy.

The war wasn’t over. The Shattersea War raged both above and below the waves. But for the first time, Jo knew one thing with certainty: together, they could face it.

The waves had settled, leaving a thin mist curling over the rocks and sand. Jo and Syrena collapsed onto the edge of the shore, drenched, exhausted, hearts still hammering from the fight. Water dripped from Syrena’s hair, clinging to her scales, and for the first time since their arrival, she looked… human again, yet still otherworldly.

Jo flopped beside her, chest heaving, every muscle trembling. He kept a careful distance at first, hands resting in the sand rather than reaching for her, though the wolf inside him throbbed, desperate to curl against her, to mark her as his.

Syrena turned her head, eyes flicking to him, violet catching the fading sunlight. “So…about the kiss,” she said quietly, the words almost drowned in the gentle lapping of the surf.

Jo grunted, awkwardly brushing wet hair from his face. “Yeah. I… I didn’t think you’d—uh…” He trailed off, eyes darting away.

 “It was—necessary.” She added quickly, as if reading his thoughts.

Jo grunted, awkwardly brushing his hair from his face. “Necessary?” He echoed.

A small laugh escaped her, uneven, nervous. “It… made you stop dragging me under. And a siren’s kiss helps any creature breathe underwater. Nothing more.”

He tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t know why I believed that excuse, but I’ll let it slide… this time.”

The awkwardness settled like a tangible presence, a quiet tension neither of them could fully shake. Above the low roar of the sea, a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Jo,” Euijoo’s voice carried across the sand, commanding and precise, “come here.”

Jo exhaled, stiffened, then followed the alpha back toward the den, Syrena trailing a few steps behind, still catching her breath, still catching his eyes. The pack had begun to regroup, drying and tending to minor injuries, yet the tension around the two newcomers—wet, salty, and raw from battle—was unmistakable.

“You’ve fought bravely. Protected your mate,” Euijoo said, eyes flicking to Syrena. “That bond changes everything. Protect her. Honor her. That is your responsibility as her mate and as a wolf of this pack.”

Jo’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

Syrena, standing a few feet away, finally looked like she was processing the words, and the concept behind them. “Mate…” she repeated softly, the word tasting foreign but not unwelcome on her tongue. She had heard tales, hints of bonds stronger than blood, stronger than magic. But this— this felt different. Real.

K, who had remained silent through the commotion, stepped closer. For once, he did not linger in the shadows. His voice was quiet but firm, almost reverent offering a kind explanation. “For wolves, mates are… everything. Their wolf chooses. And once that bond is made, it’s for life. There is no replacing it, no bargaining with it. Only one mate, or the wolf slowly dies.” His gazed shifted away, grief flickering through his expression. “The old tales say it’s heartbreak. Some believe it. Some don’t.”

Syrena’s violet eyes widened. “Only one?” she asked. Her tone carried a note of disbelief. “Even if… even if the mate is a different… creature?”

K’s gaze flickered briefly to Jo and Syrena, then back to her. “Yes. Unusual, but not rare. Instinct doesn’t care about species. Only the bond matters. It is powerful. Devastating if broken. Jo’s wolf… and your magic, your lives—they’re intertwined now. You may not understand it fully yet, but you will.”

Syrena looked at Jo, really looked, and the soft haze of awe crossed her features. “So… that’s why I felt something when I kissed you. Something… alive, pulling me in. Not just instinct, not just your strength.”

Jo’s pulse hammered. “It’s…” He trailed off, lost for words. The wolf inside him nudged, restless, aching to claim the space beside her. “It’s real,” he finally said, voice low.

K nodded once, solemn. “It is. And it will shape both of you, whether you’re ready or not.”

A quiet settled over the den, charged with something new—possibility, tension, and unspoken understanding. Syrena’s hand brushed the water from her hair, faint tremor in her fingers betraying the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

Jo stayed close as Syrena gathered her things, still damp from the sea, the faint shimmer of her scales catching the waning sunlight. His wolf churned, restless, desperate to anchor her here, yet he forced himself to remain still, to give her the space she deserved.

“Syrena…” he started, voice low, careful. She paused, eyes meeting his. “You don’t have to… accept me as your mate. That’s your choice. Not mine. And don’t let… what you’ve heard about wolves dying without a mate scare you. That’s… just K. His wolf chose his mate long ago. She disappeared… we’ve searched, tried everything, but she’s gone. He’s holding on only because he senses she might still be alive.”

Her violet eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing over her features. “I see,” she murmured. “So… it’s not a requirement. Just instinct. Bond. Choice.”

“Exactly.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to keep the tremor in his voice steady. “You can decide for yourself. Only you can decide.”

She nodded slowly, the weight of it settling on her shoulders. Then, after a long pause, she let out a soft breath and stepped closer, the faint brush of her scales against his arm sending a shiver down his spine. “Then… I accept.”

Jo’s heart leapt. “You… really?”

“Yes,” she whispered, though her lips twitched as if she were half-surprised by her own words. “You didn’t treat me like a monster. You risked your life for me.”

She held her hand on his chest and Jo prayed that she couldn’t feel just how erratically his heart was beating. “You’re… something.” Jo chuckled at her comment, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“And I know better than to defy destiny.” 

“Oh?” He smirked faintly, “So none of this,” he motioned the gap between the two of them, “Has nothing to do with you maybe liking me a little bit?” 

Syrena stepped back, arching a brow. “Excuse me?”

Now where did this confidence come from? 

“I mean, I’m just saying.” Jo teased. “The way you kissed me earlier—could have sworn there were feelings involved—“ 

“Jo!”

He laughed, relief softening his chest. His wolf hummed, low and content beneath his skin. But the moment couldn’t last—sundown was near.

“I have to go,” she said, voice catching, and the faint shimmer of tears reflected the last light of the sun. “I need to see to what remains of my kingdom… prepare the others for what’s coming. The Leviathans have broken ancient laws. The war… it’s only beginning.”

He swallowed, hands clenching. “I’ll wait for you,” he said simply, grounding himself in the moment.

Syrena smiled faintly, the tiniest curve of her lips, and reached her hand into the waves. In a split second she drew out a shell, pale and iridescent, with a tiny hole carved through it. “A pact,” she said, voice soft. “Every full moon, I will return. A week. To spend time with you. To update you on the war. And if ever… you need me,” she pressed the shell into his hand, “call. I’ll come.”

Jo turned it over in his palm, the smooth surface cool and comforting. “I… I’ll hold you to that,” he murmured.

Her eyes glimmered, violet meeting gold. “You’d better.”

There was a beat of silence, a tension thick and unspoken, as if both of them were memorising the feel of the moment—the brush of shoulders, the warmth of proximity, the pulse of instinct pulling at them.

Then, reluctantly, she stepped back, taking a deep breath. “I must go,” she said firmly, though not without a flicker of hesitation in her gaze.

Jo nodded, trying to swallow the ache in his chest. “Go… be safe,” he said, voice low but steady. “I’ll be here.”

He took a step forward closer to her, lifting her chin slowly to meet his eyes. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips, a faint blush painting both their faces, he mumbled, “See you soon.” before she slipped into the shallow surf, the water rising around her like a soft embrace. One moment she was there, and the next, she vanished beneath the waves, leaving only ripples in her wake.

Jo lingered at the edge of the shore, gripping the shell tightly, his wolf humming beneath his skin, restless but tethered, knowing she had chosen him—and that the bond was theirs, no matter the distance. And that was enough.

Behind him, K lingered silently, watching the retreating form of the siren. His voice, low and thoughtful, broke the silence. “She’s made her choice. You’re lucky. Most wolves…” His gaze flicked to Jo, serious. “Most wolves never get that chance. Don’t waste it.”

Jo nodded, jaw tight, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “I won’t.”

The last light faded from the sky, shadows lengthened over the forest, and the pack began their return to the den, tending to injuries, regrouping, preparing for the chaos that the Shattersea War would soon bring.

And far below the waves, Syrena swam, her heart still tethered to the wolf on the shore. She drew strength from him, from the bond they had forged in water and blood, ready to face whatever came next.

Luna’s sobs were ragged, each one tearing through the silence like a blade. She pressed her small face into Jungwon’s chest, fists knotted into the fabric of his hoodie, leaving dark, wet stains over his pounding heart. Every shudder of her tiny shoulders made the fine feathers along the tops of Jungwon’s wings twitch, like they were straining to shield her even tighter.

“Is Daddy going to be okay?” She cried, voice cracking like fragile glass. “Is he going to end up like Uncle Jay?”

At that, Niki slammed the brakes so hard the car jerked violently forward, seatbelts snapping them back into their seats. The tires screamed, leaving black streaks on the pavement. The engine settled into a growling idle, pulsing like an angry animal in the quiet that followed.

Niki sat motionless behind the wheel, eyes staring forward, knuckles white where they strangled the leather of the steering wheel. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, like a man holding in a scream. Slowly, he turned his head toward Jungwon, and their gazes collided- a raw, glassy stare full of memories they’d both tried to bury.

Jungwon’s wings rustled softly, feathers fluffing out as if to make himself bigger, protective, even as panic coiled like barbed wire in his gut.

Luna had always known about Jay. She’d grown up tracing his smile in photographs scattered around Jake’s house, hearing the stories told in soft, almost reverent voices- of high school days, reckless adventures, quiet nights that turned into memories. She’d learned to point him out in old pictures, to ask questions about his hair, his laugh, the way his wings looked when they caught the sun.

And she knew, in her child’s simple way, that Jay and Chelsea had been soulmates- just like the princesses and princes in her Disney movies. Sometimes, she’d climb onto Jake’s lap and ask if she’d ever find a soulmate of her own one day. And Jake would always ruffle her hair, lean in close, and mutter gruffly, “No boys for you until I’m dead, Luna.”

Now, her question hung in the car like a blade poised over their necks.

“Your dad’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said, voice shaking as he gently cupped Luna’s face, brushing away snot and tears with trembling thumbs. He forced her wide eyes to meet his, even though it made his own throat close up. “He’s very strong. You understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niki said quickly from the driver’s seat, his nods fast and jerky, fingers clawing at his hairline. “Nothing’s gonna happen. They’re… they’re playing a game.”

Luna’s sobs hitched, confusion warring with fear. “A game?”

“Yeah,” Niki said, forcing a wobbly smile. “A game. And we’re all gonna play.”

“Niki, what the hell are you doing?” Jungwon hissed, his wings flaring out another inch in agitation, brushing the door frame beside him.

But Niki barreled on, eyes darting between the road and Luna. “I need you to do me a favor, okay?” He said to her, leaning closer, voice dropping into a hush. “It’d help a lot if you played along.”

“Niki, shut up” Jungwon barked, shifting his wings closer around Luna like a fortress of white feathers. “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m doing what Jake couldn’t fucking do,” Niki shot back, voice rising, edged with desperation. “We need to leave, Jungwon. We need to get out of here.”

“What?” Jungwon blinked, confusion and panic sparking in his chest. “Leave?”

“Leave?” Luna echoed softly, peering up at him with huge eyes. “Like on a trip?”

“Yes, honey, like on a trip,” Niki said, his voice growing gentle as he met her gaze.

“Will Daddy come?” She whispered with childlike hope, opal eyes almost pleading.

Niki hesitated, his jaw flexing hard enough to creak. “Well…” He tilted his head slightly. “He’s supposed to catch us.”

Luna’s eyes widened further. “Like tag? Or hide and seek?”

“Yes. Just…” Niki trailed off, flicking a look at Jungwon, then back to Luna, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “…an international version.”

Jungwon stared at him, stunned, his wings flickering restlessly at his back, shedding a few fine feathers onto the floor mat. “Niki, this is kidnapping,” he croaked, horror and disbelief crashing through his chest.

“We’re her uncles,” Niki shot back with conviction. “We want to keep her safe. Look around you, Jungwon- this life has shredded every one of us. Look at Luna. Do you want her growing up in this war zone? Do you want her to be like us?”

Jungwon dragged a shaking hand through his hair, then pressed his palms against his eyes as though trying to squeeze the chaos out of his skull. Alice’s face flashed in his mind- her shy grin. Her freckles, her curls, the soft brush of her fingers against his feathers when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. The tiny kitchen they’d dreamed of- the quiet life he’d secretly wanted.

He felt the weight of it pressing on him like a collapsing ceiling. If they left… he’d have to leave her, too. 

“I know you’re trying to emotionally blackmail me, and this is insane, Niki. Jake will kill us if we take her. You know he will,” Jungwon rasped.

“He won’t find us. I’ll make sure of it,” Niki said, his voice steely and desperate all at once.

“Where would we even go?” Jungwon demanded, wings trembling like leaves in a storm. “Niki, you’re out of your mind.”

“Santorini,” Niki said firmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Greece. No one knows us there. Not a single contact. Nobody’s gonna expect us to vanish into a place like that. Jungwon, I’m begging you. Let’s save her while we still can.”

“Niki…” Jungwon whispered, feeling his resolve fraying.

“You’ve wanted out, too. Ever since Jay died. You’ve been talking about it. And now I’m saying I’ll come with you,” Niki looked at Jungwon like he did when they were kids, innocent and eyes shining with a sense of confidence he’d never seen in him. “What have we said since we were kids, huh? In this together. Well, you want to leave and now I’m saying I’ll leave with you. Just say the word.”

Jungwon stared down at Luna, her wide, frightened eyes shining like opals through her tears. He felt his wings shuddering as they closed protectively around her. He knew Niki was right. But he also knew what it meant- to abandon everyone, to rip away the last scraps of normalcy they’d fought so hard to hold onto.

He closed his eyes, chest heaving, breath catching on a sob he refused to let out. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of decision behind his gaze.

“We need to get Y/N.”

Y/N was still staring at the bullet in the center of Emily’s forehead when her phone started vibrating in her pocket.

She couldn’t move at first. She just stood there, rooted to the spot, eyes locked on Emily’s face- the way the small, dark wound seemed to sink into her skull like a tiny black pit, rimmed in ragged flesh and glistening beads of blood. A thin trickle of crimson ran down the bridge of Emily’s nose, seeping over her lips and dripping off her chin to join the widening pool beneath her head.

Emily’s skin was turning pale already, tinged with an eerie bluish-grey, the pallor crawling outward from the bullet hole as though death itself were radiating through her veins. Her eyes were wide open, bloodshot, irises clouding over like milk. They stared blankly past Y/N, and yet somehow felt as though they were boring right into her soul, accusing, condemning.

There were spatters of red on Y/N’s shirt, tiny droplets clinging to her hands and wrists, stark and wet. The sharp, metallic tang of blood was thick enough to taste on her tongue, mingling with the bile rising at the back of her throat.

She blinked and felt something hot slide down her cheek, only realizing a second later that it was a tear- and not blood- that trailed over her skin. She didn’t even remember pulling the trigger. Didn’t remember the exact moment her finger had tightened and the gun had bucked in her hands, sending a spray of blood mist into the air like some horrific watercolor.

She wondered- absurdly- if Emily’s ghost would come back to haunt her, whispering in her ear while she slept, reminding her of the promise they’d once made as friends: no secrets, ever.

Behind her, Jake and Sunghoon were dragging Heeseung’s limp body across the floor, plastic sheeting wrinkling under their boots, murmuring to each other in urgent, clipped voices as they wrapped him in layers of clear wrap like he was a piece of leftover meat.

The phone buzzed again.

Y/N forced herself to look away from Emily’s dead face. She reached into her pocket with trembling fingers, swiping the screen to answer. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/N,” Niki’s voice burst through the line, breathless, urgent, rattling like loose coins in a tin.

Her heart lurched. “Is everything okay? Jungwon? Luna?”

“Yeah, yeah- they’re fine,” Niki’s voice was pitched high, barely contained, that particular edge he only had when he was panicking or plotting. “Listen, I need you to meet us. Now.”

“Why-”

“Just come, please,” Niki cut her off, desperation bleeding through every word. “I’ll send you the location. Just trust me, okay? And don’t tell Jake or Sunghoon. Tell them… tell them you’re going to check on your parents or something. Please, Y/N. Please.”

And before she could even protest, the line went dead.

Y/N stood there, phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the silence buzzing in her skull. She glanced down at Emily’s body again. Blood was creeping in slow rivulets across the tiles, reaching for the toes of her shoes.

She swallowed.

Slowly, she turned to Jake and Sunghoon. Jake had straightened up, wiping sweat and blood from his forehead with the back of his hand. When he looked at her, there was a softness in his eyes that felt bizarrely out of place amidst the carnage.

“Guys… my parents, um…” Y/N’s tongue felt heavy, clumsy in her mouth. “I need to go… find them. Just- check on them.”

Jake nodded, almost tender. “Go. Go find them. It’s okay,” he tried to smile, but it barely reached his eyes.

Sunghoon glanced at her briefly, then went back to taping Heeseung’s ankles. Neither of them questioned it.

Nodding mutely, Y/N backed out of the room, blood sticking to the soles of her boots. She stepped into the cool evening air, drawing in deep breaths that tasted faintly of iron and smoke. Her hands were shaking as she slid behind the wheel of her car.

She drove, following the pin Niki sent her. Her eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror, as if she expected Emily’s pale face to appear there, grinning at her from the shadows.

Niki drove in tight, silent focus, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as city lights rolled past the windshield in neon blurs. Beside him, Jungwon stared out his window with an expression caught between terror and resignation, his wings twitching faintly every time his mind seemed to catch on the same loop of thoughts.

In the backseat, Luna slept curled up under Jungwon’s discarded jacket, her breaths coming in soft, shuddery hiccups even in sleep, a faint shine of tear tracks still drying on her cheeks.

Niki didn’t question Jungwon’s quiet plea when he’d said, “I need to see Alice.”

It was only minutes later that they pulled into a small residential street, the buildings stacked close, the neon lights of the city visible in the distance like a distant galaxy. The car idled as Jungwon sat frozen, his hands white-knuckled in his lap, feathers shivering where they poked out around his shoulder blades.

Finally, he got out, moving as though each step cost him an impossible amount of effort. He stood in front of Alice’s apartment door, breath clouding in the cool night air, eyes fixed on the wooden panel as though it might vanish if he blinked.

He knocked three times, sharp but trembling. Then he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, head bowed so low his hair hung like a curtain over his eyes. He felt like a coward. Like he was about to commit the same sin he’d nearly committed once before- running away instead of facing the disaster swallowing his family whole.

The last time he’d felt like this, he’d been in his final year of university. The mob was falling apart. Niki had just started using drugs, Sunghoon was dragging himself through endless meetings, trying to hold together a legacy that was crumbling like wet paper. Y/N and Jake were clawing at each other’s throats every day about Emily- and Jungwon’s only job, it seemed, was to exist quietly beside all of it- just one more pair of limbs in a house full of ghosts.

The only bright spot back then was Jay and Chelsea’s wedding on the horizon. Even that hope felt like something fragile and temporary, a single bright star about to wink out.

So Jungwon had decided he’d had enough. One dawn, he’d packed a single duffel bag, left his textbooks piled on his desk, and slipped away on a train to another city. He’d even enrolled in a different university under a different name, desperate to start over, convinced he could scrub the blood off his family name and carve himself a life that wasn’t steeped in secrets and violence.

He lasted a month.

Sunghoon found him eventually, tracked him down in the cafeteria of a small campus miles from home. Sunghoon hadn’t shouted, hadn’t threatened him. He’d simply looked at him across a table of stainless steel and rice bowls and whispered, “Come home, please.”

Jungwon remembered how angry Y/N had been with him for giving up so easily. How she’d stood in the kitchen, shaking, voice hoarse from screaming, telling him that running never fixed anything- that you had to stand and fight for the people you loved. Not long after that, he started therapy and met Alice.

But here he was again, letting Niki talk about fleeing the country like it was the only possible answer.

The door finally creaked open. Alice stood in the doorway, hair still damp from a shower, soft curls bouncing against her shoulders, the faint shimmer of droplets catching the hallway light. Her wings unfurled the instant she saw who it was- black feathers flaring with instinctive joy- but as her eyes scanned his face, the joy evaporated. Her wings folded back in, trembling faintly, as she took in his pallor and the hollow look in his eyes.

“Jungwon?” She murmured, tilting her head, trying to catch his gaze. “Is everything okay?”

He shook his head once, hair falling messily across his brow. His throat worked, but no words came out. Alice stepped closer, hands lifting toward his cheeks, but he flinched and took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. His voice came out cracked and hoarse. “I’m sorry.” He repeated it once- twice, a third time, the words crumbled on his tongue each time, like ash.

Alice’s face crumpled in confusion and fear. She reached for him again, slower this time, as though trying not to startle a wounded animal. “Hey, Jungwon?” She whispered, eyes shimmering. “Please talk to me. What happened? Is it Luna? Is it Jake?”

“I don’t want you to therapize me right now,” Jungwon snapped, the words sharp enough to slice the air between them.

Alice recoiled a fraction, swallowing hard. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and his wings drooped behind him, as though the weight of his own words was pulling them down.

Alice blinked rapidly, eyes glossing over as she tried to keep her voice steady. “What… what are you apologizing for?”

“I’m leaving,” Jungwon said, voice trembling like glass about to shatter.

Alice stood there, staring at him as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning in his eyes. The silence stretched painfully long. A thousand thoughts crashed through her mind all at once- Was he in danger? Was he leaving her? What did any of it mean?

But she held those questions inside. Over time, she’d learned- painfully, stubbornly- that loving Jungwon meant accepting the parts of his life cloaked in secrecy. It meant swallowing back questions that burned on her tongue because she knew, deep down, that whatever he did was for her safety, for Luna’s safety, for all of them. It didn’t make it hurt less, but she’d learned not to push him past his limits.

She stared down at her feet, picking at a chip of blue nail polish on her thumb, her voice barely a whisper. “Where?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he said, jaw clenching. His hands flexed at his sides, as though fighting the urge to reach for her.

Alice’s wings drooped even lower, the tips grazing the floor. “So… this is it?” She whispered, voice so quiet it barely reached him.

“I don’t want it to be,” he confessed. And finally, finally, their eyes met. Both sets were glassy, shining with unshed tears, both of them drowning under the same suffocating fear of losing each other.

Jungwon took two steps forward. He reached for her almost helplessly and drew her into his chest, burying his face in the damp strands of her hair. A single sob tore out of him when he realized this might be the last time he’d ever hold her, smell her shampoo, feel the soft rustle of her wings folding around his back like a shield.

Alice wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers trembling where they pressed into his jacket. Her wings stretched around them both, cocooning them in a soft, trembling shelter. And though a storm of questions raged inside her, she stayed silent, pressing her face into his shoulder, willing herself to believe that love might still be enough to bring him back to her.

Meanwhile, in the car parked just a few houses down, Niki was tapping the steering wheel impatiently- thumbs drumming a rhythm that didn’t match the thunderous beat of his heart. His jaw clenched, muscles ticking as his eyes flicked from the windshield to the rearview mirror to the sleeping child in the back seat. Luna’s tiny form was still curled up beneath Jungwon’s jacket, her cheek pressed into it, mouth slightly open, breath coming in slow puffs. She hadn’t stirred since they'd pulled away from the road, not even when he hit a pothole a few blocks earlier.

The silence in the car pressed in on him- too heavy, too still- and his fingers itched as he reached into the center console, pulled out his phone, and opened Sophie’s chat.

He stared at it.

Typed: I'm sorry.

Deleted it.

Typed again: You won’t understand, but I can’t stay.

Deleted.

He sighed, rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest like he could scrub the ache away, then typed again- his thumb hovering over the screen: I’m sorry. I have to leave.

He sent it. 

And then he just stared.

The screen remained blank. No typing bubble, no blue ticks, no read receipt. She was probably at work. Or with her family. 

Five minutes passed.

Nothing.

He clenched his jaw and- before he could change his mind- he blocked the contact. The name disappeared from his list like she’d never existed. Then, with more force than he meant, he shoved the phone into the glove compartment and slammed it shut. The plastic snapped with a sharp thud.

The noise startled Luna. She stirred in the backseat, brow furrowing, a soft whimper escaping her lips. But she didn’t wake up. She just turned over in her sleep, seeking warmth.

Niki let out a shaky breath, head falling back against the seat. The guilt was suffocating; the fear even more so. What the hell was he doing? What kind of man leaves in the middle of the day with someone else’s daughter in the backseat with no plan beyond “anywhere but here”? He didn’t know. He only knew that if he stayed, something worse might happen. And he couldn’t bear that- not to Luna, not to Jungwon, not to Y/N, not to anyone.

At the thought of her, he looked up.

From the rearview mirror, he saw her.

Y/N.

She was walking toward the car, arms wrapped tightly around herself, a jacket pulled hastily over her frame like armor. Her head was down, steps slow, cautious, like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to reach the car or turn around and disappear altogether.

When she reached the dark car idling near the curb, she slipped into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

Luna was curled up asleep in the back, hair falling across her cheek, breathing soft and even.

Y/N stared at her for a long second, heart twisting. Then she turned to Niki, who sat gripping the wheel like he might crush it in his fists.

“What’s going on, Niki?” She demanded, her voice low, trembling with exhaustion and barely restrained fear. Blood- dried, dark, clinging to the fabric of her sleeves and the strands of her hair- still carried the sour metallic scent of what she’d done, what they’d all done. She could still feel the recoil in her palms, the ringing in her ears. Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since.

Jake and his brothers- they’d all done this before. They’d had many victims under their belts already. And she’d watched lives be taken away multiple times before and she was never affected by it. 

But Y/N had never killed anyone before. And she didn’t think her niece’s mother would be her first claim.

“We’re leaving,” Niki said, eyes still locked on the windshield like he couldn’t bear to look at her just yet. His fingers tapped a nervous, uneven rhythm against the steering wheel, and his leg bounced restlessly. His voice was flat but trembling underneath- too steady to be calm, too shaky to be convincing.

“…What?” Her voice came out in disbelief, a whisper.

“We’re leaving. To Santorini. Me and Jungwon. And Luna. And you,” he turned to her then, finally, eyes blown wide, brimming with the kind of frantic conviction that only ever came from desperation. “We’re getting out of here, Y/N.”

A beat of silence passed. And then-

“Niki, are you out of your fucking mind?” Her voice rose sharply, only to dip again as she cast a glance toward the back seat- Luna, still curled into a ball, cheeks sticky with dried tears, soft breaths fogging up the glass. “This is cruel. And stupid. You can’t just run away- do you hear yourself? What the hell are you even saying?”

“No,” Niki said, and this time it came with a shake of his head, abrupt and ragged, like he was trying to shake the panic out of his skull. “Y/N, listen to me. Really listen. It’s not safe anymore. It hasn’t been safe in years- but this? This is different. You know it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“You’re separating a daughter from her father, Niki,” Y/N hissed, leaning closer, her voice low and vicious, her fingers clutching the edge of her seat so tightly her knuckles went white. “Do you even hear how unrealistic this is? You think Luna’s just going to forget Jake? That she’s going to grow up and not hate us for taking her away from him? From everything she’s ever known?”

“She won’t remember,” Niki shot back, his voice sharp and serrated. “Tell me, Y/N. Do you remember anything from when you were five?”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her jaw twitched. “That’s not the same. That’s not fair. She’s not going to forget this. This is trauma- real trauma- you’re about to put her through.”

“She’s already traumatized,” Niki barked, his hand slamming against the steering wheel, the echo of it bouncing around the inside of the car. “She just watched her grandmother tied up. She sat on a couch next to the woman who abandoned her. She saw blood, Y/N- she saw people getting punched. She saw her father act like an animal. You think staying here is going to be better? You think that’s something a five-year-old just walks off?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes flickering back to Luna’s sleeping form.

“She asked us,” Niki continued, voice cracking now, desperation climbing with every word. “She asked if Jake was going to end up like Jay.”

Her heart twitched. “What?” She breathed.

“So tell me, Y/N- what’s the fucking difference between us taking her now, giving her peace and a normal life, versus letting her rot in this blood bath until she breaks the same way we did?”

Y/N’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her throat burned. Her hands trembled in her lap.

“She’ll hate us,” she whispered finally. “She’ll hate us for the rest of her life.”

“I’ll let her hate me,” Niki said, and his voice was calm now, eerily so. “I can handle her hating me. That means she lived long enough to do it. That means she’s safe somewhere, angry, stubborn, healthy. I can live with that. I can live with her never forgiving me. What I can’t live with is burying her. Not after Jay.”

“Emily is dead, Niki,” she admitted- it was her sin to admit, her sin to speak, and Y/N spoke as though it was her final admission. “And I shot her. You think she won’t hate me if she ever finds out, by chance, that her mother had been alive and I was the one that killed her?” Niki had to control his expression but Y/N saw it- the sharp tug of his lips, the twitch in his cheeks and eyebrows. “At least she’ll be alive while hating you.”

Y/N closed her eyes. The memory of Jay’s death came rushing back in brutal flashes- sirens, screams, the smell of the hospital, confused eyes. Her hand instinctively pressed over her chest as if trying to still her own racing heart.

“I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes,” Niki breathed. “Say yes, Y/N. Say we’re going to get her out of here. That we’re going to stop this cycle. That we’re going to give her a life worth living. Please.”

Her throat felt too tight to speak. Her fingers dug into the edge of her jeans. She looked once more at Luna, soft and fragile in the backseat, unaware of the war being waged over her future.

Niki leaned closer, voice low, fierce, begging now. “Come on, Y/N. You know I’m right. She deserves better. You and I- we’re not innocent. But she still is. Don’t let them take that from her. She deserves better. Luna deserves better than this.”

“I have every right to kill you too,” she whispered finally. “The only thing that’s stopping me is Luna.”

Jake gave a broken, soft laugh, though his eyes glistened. “If it weren’t for her…I think I’d let you kill me.”

The silence between them turned heavy again, thick with things neither of them knew how to say.

“Why do you like hurting me, Jake?” She asked, her voice a quiet, raw wound.

He felt his chest splinter at the edges, felt the words clawing up his throat. “I don’t like hurting you,” he breathed. “Fuck, Y/N- I hate myself for it.”

“It’s not that hard to communicate,” she said. “I don’t know why you hide everything from me.”

Jake exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry,” he said again, voice so low it was almost inaudible. “You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me.”

Jungwon slipped into the back seat quietly, the door clicking shut like the closing of a vault. For a moment, he just sat there, staring blankly at the back of the passenger seat, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Then, as though remembering himself, he shifted Luna’s tiny form so that her head lay pillowed against his thigh.

Niki and Y/N both turned to look at him in unison.  Jungwon looked… hollow. Like a boy who’d run for miles and come up gasping, only to realize he’d reached the edge of the world and there was nowhere left to go. His eyes were red and glassy, framed by dark smudges that seemed to sink into his skin. His wings- those magnificent white feathers usually held high and proud- were drooping behind his shoulders like they were too heavy for him to carry.

Y/N’s voice was small, incredulous. “You said goodbye to Alice?”

Jungwon didn’t answer right away. He simply held Y/N’s gaze, eyes dark and burning, as though daring her to keep asking. His jaw clenched, a flicker of pain crossing his features. Then he slowly lowered his gaze to Luna, and his fingers began combing through her hair in gentle, repetitive motions. Each stroke looked like a silent apology for everything he was about to take from her.

“Are we doing this or what?” He asked finally, his voice hoarse and rough, scraped raw from all the words he hadn’t said.

Niki turned in the driver’s seat to look at Y/N, his face open and aching, hope fighting with terror in the way his eyes shone under the streetlights.

Y/N lowered her head, unable to bear the weight of Jungwon’s stare. Guilt clawed its way up her chest, closing her throat until she could hardly breathe. She stared down at her trembling hands, stained faintly with dried blood, and realized that somewhere along the way, she’d become someone capable of agreeing to this.

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and forced herself to say it again, stronger this time. “Yeah.”

When Jake pulled up to the house, the stench of blood still thick in his nose and two corpses wrapped in plastic decomposing in the trunk, he expected the world inside his home to be normal- as unrealistic as that sounded.

He expected to hear Luna’s soft laughter drifting through the living room, expected to see her perched in Y/N’s lap with a half-finished cup of hot chocolate in hand and a cartoon playing on the TV. Maybe Niki would be passed out on the couch, limbs draped over Jungwon, who’d be too tired to care, and Y/N would roll her eyes when Jake walked in but smile anyway, like she always did.

But the house was empty.

Not quiet- empty.

The kind of stillness that settled like a chill in their spines, like silence that had grown roots. No lights were on, no TV playing. The cushions on the couch hadn’t been touched. The air inside was stale, undisturbed. It stayed the way they had first left it in a hurry.

Jake turned toward Sunghoon, who’d followed him in with a half-unloaded pistol still tucked in his waistband. “Where is everyone?” He asked, voice flat with dread.

“They must be around somewhere,” Sunghoon replied, but his voice cracked just slightly at the end, betraying the unease curdling in his gut. “Just check the rooms, yeah?”

They split up quickly, calling out names half-heartedly into the void of the house. Jake checked Luna’s room first- bed neatly made, the stuffed unicorn she never slept without gone from its usual place. He moved to the bedrooms, the office, the gym, the backyard. 

Nothing. 

Sunghoon checked the kitchen, the spare rooms, the garage. 

Still nothing. 

The place felt abandoned, as if it had been emptied in a hurry.

Jake stood in Luna’s room, blinking rapidly at the bare shelf above her desk where her favorite toys usually sat. “Some of Niki and Jungwon’s clothes are missing,” he said finally, each word like a brick on his tongue. “So are Luna’s. And her stuffed animal. Her backpack.”

Sunghoon joined him, pale and tight-lipped. “There’s cash missing from the locker,” he said grimly. “Passports too. They’ve… they’ve actually gone.”

Jake shook his head, refusing to believe what was right in front of him. “No. They wouldn’t do that. They’re probably just at Y/N’s apartment. Or Mom and Dad’s. This isn’t- this isn’t what it looks like.”

Sunghoon, already dialing, tried each number- Y/N’s, Niki’s, Jungwon’s. Every single one went straight to voicemail. No rings, no signal- like they’d fallen off the face of the Earth.

He lowered the phone and looked at Jake, eyes dark. “They’re not picking up.”

Jake’s throat tightened as he dragged his feet toward the front door. “Let’s check Y/N’s place.”

They drove in silence, the weight of absence sitting between them like a body. When they reached her building, Jake used the emergency key she had given them- the one she made them swear to only use if something went horribly wrong. The moment the door opened, the truth struck with finality.

It was abandonment too. 

The scent of her morning coffee still lingered in the air, her favorite mug sat on the kitchen island, stained with remnants of her last sip. Her laptop sat open, screen dark, and the comforter on her bed was half-kicked off like she’d left in a rush. But the closet had been cleared out. The drawer where she kept her passport and emergency cash was empty- only her gun remained.

Jake’s knees buckled, and he sat down hard on the edge of her bed, his face buried in his hands.

“They took my daughter with them,” he whispered. “They left. They actually left.”

Sunghoon crouched beside him, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let’s not panic. Maybe they’re at mom and dad’s.”

He tried to imagine Luna’s face- was she confused? Did she cry for him? Did she look back over her shoulder and ask for her dad, or did she just go, because her aunt and uncles told her it was okay? Because she trusted them too much to question it?

“Come on, Jake,” Sunghoon coaxed. “Let’s go.”

When they reached David’s house, Jake knew in the rational corners of his mind that he wouldn’t find Luna, Y/N, or his brothers there- but some stubborn, foolish part of him still hoped. 

He hoped he’d walk through the door and see Luna curled up on Helen’s lap, Y/N perched at the kitchen counter with her arms crossed in guarded relief, Niki pacing and ranting about how stupid they’d all been, Jungwon quiet but safe in the corner. 

He hoped for the impossible.

But when he stepped inside and found only emptiness echoing through the rooms, the realization burrowed deeper into his chest like a hot blade twisting into flesh.

In the kitchen, Helen and Nayna were huddled close, their wings trembling as they clung to each other. Nayna’s face was pale and wet with tears, her voice shaking as she rambled in broken sentences that seemed half prayer, half panicked confession.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to any of them,” Helen whispered, voice rough with the effort of holding back her own sobs as she hugged Nayna tightly.

Martin and David stood across from them, exchanging glances heavy with confusion and fear. Martin looked as though he’d aged ten years in a day, while David’s jaw was clenched so hard his teeth were probably on the verge of cracking.

When Jake and Sunghoon entered the kitchen, the relief that bloomed across their parents’ faces was almost instantly strangled by a surge of questions.

“What happened?” David barked, his voice echoing off the tile. “What did you do?”

Jake swallowed hard, his throat raw. “Emily’s dead,” he forced out.

Silence crashed into the kitchen like a tidal wave. Helen stiffened, Nayna’s breath caught in her chest, and even Martin’s wings faltered where they hung behind him.

“Y/N shot her,” Sunghoon said, his voice low, as if confessing a crime to the priest. “She’s dead.”

Nayna’s eyes darted around frantically, scanning behind Jake and Sunghoon as though expecting her daughter to appear from the shadows. “Where is she, then?” She whispered, trembling. “Where’s Y/N?”

Jake and Sunghoon said nothing.

“Where is she, Jake?” David demanded, slamming his palm down onto the kitchen counter so hard the sound cracked through the house.

And for just a split second, Jake was fifteen years old again, standing in the same kitchen, drenched in sweat after a brawl at school, David towering over him and Sunghoon, wings bristling in fury, demanding why they couldn’t stop dragging the family’s name through the mud. But this time, there was no Jay at his side to make some half-assed joke to defuse the tension. There was no mischief in the air, only the hollow, echoing ache of absence.

“We… we can’t find them,” Jake whispered, voice barely audible.

“What do you mean, you can’t find them?” Martin’s brows snapped together, his voice trembling with disbelief. “Did someone take- ”

“No,” Jake shook his head fiercely, feeling tears sting his eyes. “No. They left. Y/N, Niki, Jungwon. They… they took Luna. And they left.”

“They took Luna?!” David roared, his voice reverberating off the cabinets, wings snapping open so hard a few dark feathers scattered to the floor. “Are you fucking joking right now?”

Jake and Sunghoon both flinched as though struck.

“What is it with you driving people away, Jake?” David bellowed, voice breaking on the edges of fury. “First the mother of your child- now your own fucking brothers, the one woman who actually had faith in you, and your daughter.”

Helen tried to intervene, laying a trembling hand on David’s shoulder. “Honey, now’s not-”

“No!” David roared louder, shoving her hand away. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you ruining this family, tearing us apart piece by piece. I’ll kill you myself if I have to, Jake- bring them back or I swear to God-”

“I’ll bring them back,” Jake gasped out, his voice cracking under the weight of a hundred emotions clawing at his throat. His arms trembled where they hung by his sides. “I’ll find them. I promise. I’ll bring them back.”

Jake’s breath stuttered, his shoulders rising and falling like he was trying to force the anger back into his ribs. “What the fuck was I supposed to do, huh? You were part of the conversation too-”

“Be a little fucking sensitive,” Sunghoon hissed, cutting him off, voice brittle with frustration. He flung his arms out, fingers splayed, as if trying to physically shove the truth into Jake’s chest. “You treat her like shit and she puts up with it. She has every right in the world to blame you for Jay’s death, but she doesn’t. She’s killing herself trying to keep the fucking peace. You hurt her right now- and she still chooses to sleep under this roof instead of running back to her own apartment. She put Jungwon into therapy but she doesn’t know how to help herself, Jake.”

Jake blinked, his eyes darting toward the door, as though he might tear it open and go check for himself. “She’s asleep?” He murmured, almost as if the question embarrassed him.

“Yes,” Sunghoon confirmed, his voice softer now but still carrying an undertone of anger. “Not even a year ago, she still hated you, Jake. Don’t take her for granted. We both know how easy it is for her to up and leave when she’s had enough.”

FIVE YEARS AGO

Y/N stood on Jake’s doorstep, a plastic grocery bag clutched so tightly in her fist that the handles cut into her fingers. The bag crinkled softly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glaring at the peeling paint of the door as if she could will it to open on its own.

It had taken weeks to get her here. Weeks of Sunghoon showing up at her room, dark circles under his eyes, voice breaking as he’d said again and again, “he’s falling apart, Y/N. And only you know how to fix him- it’s always been you.”

Niki had tried too, though his words were sharper, angrier. “You’re mad at him. Fine. So am I. But you’re not punishing Jake by staying away- you’re punishing the rest of us.”

Jungwon, quiet as always, had only said, “he’s not eating. Not sleeping. I’m scared he’ll die in that house.”

So Y/N had come. Even though rage still burned low and steady in her chest. Even though just the thought of looking at Jake made her feel like she might either scream or dissolve into tears.

She raised her hand and knocked, sharp and quick. Silence stretched on the other side of the door, so oppressive she thought she’d suffocate in it. She lifted her hand again- when the lock finally clicked.

The door swung open a few inches, and Jake stood there.

He looked… wrecked.

His hair was longer than usual, hanging in unwashed strands around his face. He wore the same faded t-shirt she’d seen him in at the night of the funeral, a small stain of baby formula on the shoulder. His eyes were red, rimmed with purple shadows so deep they looked like bruises, and there was stubble on his jaw that she’d never seen him let grow out before. 

His wings… they’d disappeared. She didn’t know when that had happened. 

He stared at her for a second like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Y/N lifted the grocery bag a little, her glare sharpening. “Are you gonna let me in or not?”

Jake didn’t say a word. He just stepped back and opened the door wider.

Inside, the house was a mess. Dishes piled high in the sink, empty baby bottles scattered across the coffee table, a faint smell of sour milk hung in the air. On the couch, a soft pink blanket lay rumpled where a baby had clearly been moments before.

Y/N stepped inside, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. She dropped the bag on the kitchen island- diapers, formula, a box of baby wipes peeking out the top- and whirled on Jake.

“You look like hell.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought I’d be a good father,” he said, his words tumbling out ragged and low. “But I’m failing at that too.”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I didn’t know how,” Jake whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I keep… I keep messing everything up. She cries and I don’t know why. I don’t know what she needs. I don’t know if she… even likes me,” his shoulders trembled as he spoke. “I don’t know how to do this alone.”

Y/N sucked in a breath. She looked past him, into the dim living room, where she could hear soft, hiccuping cries.

“Let me see her,” she said finally, her voice tight but steady.

Jake hesitated for a moment, then guided her to a room upstairs.

It was an empty room, cleaner than the rest of the house. The walls were painted in pink, the windows had wispy purple curtains. And In a bassinet at the centre of the room, illuminated by the sunlight seeping into the room, a tiny baby wailed, her fists flailing.

Y/N crossed the room, dropped the grocery bag on the counter, and gently lifted Luna into her arms. The baby’s cries quieted a fraction as Y/N shifted her weight and rocked her.

“Hey,” she murmured, brushing a trembling hand over the baby’s fine hair. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re not alone.”

Jake watched her, his chest heaving, tears brimming in his eyes.

Without looking at him, Y/N said, “Go take a shower. And then we’ll figure this out.”

Jake let out a strangled noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, nodding as he turned away.

And as the baby settled against her chest, Y/N realized that leaving had never really been an option.

Luna’s sobs were ragged, each one tearing through the silence like a blade. She pressed her small face into Jungwon’s chest, fists knotted into the fabric of his hoodie, leaving dark, wet stains over his pounding heart. Every shudder of her tiny shoulders made the fine feathers along the tops of Jungwon’s wings twitch, like they were straining to shield her even tighter.

“Is Daddy going to be okay?” She cried, voice cracking like fragile glass. “Is he going to end up like Uncle Jay?”

At that, Niki slammed the brakes so hard the car jerked violently forward, seatbelts snapping them back into their seats. The tires screamed, leaving black streaks on the pavement. The engine settled into a growling idle, pulsing like an angry animal in the quiet that followed.

Niki sat motionless behind the wheel, eyes staring forward, knuckles white where they strangled the leather of the steering wheel. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, like a man holding in a scream. Slowly, he turned his head toward Jungwon, and their gazes collided- a raw, glassy stare full of memories they’d both tried to bury.

Jungwon’s wings rustled softly, feathers fluffing out as if to make himself bigger, protective, even as panic coiled like barbed wire in his gut.

Luna had always known about Jay. She’d grown up tracing his smile in photographs scattered around Jake’s house, hearing the stories told in soft, almost reverent voices- of high school days, reckless adventures, quiet nights that turned into memories. She’d learned to point him out in old pictures, to ask questions about his hair, his laugh, the way his wings looked when they caught the sun.

And she knew, in her child’s simple way, that Jay and Chelsea had been soulmates- just like the princesses and princes in her Disney movies. Sometimes, she’d climb onto Jake’s lap and ask if she’d ever find a soulmate of her own one day. And Jake would always ruffle her hair, lean in close, and mutter gruffly, “No boys for you until I’m dead, Luna.”

Now, her question hung in the car like a blade poised over their necks.

“Your dad’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said, voice shaking as he gently cupped Luna’s face, brushing away snot and tears with trembling thumbs. He forced her wide eyes to meet his, even though it made his own throat close up. “He’s very strong. You understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niki said quickly from the driver’s seat, his nods fast and jerky, fingers clawing at his hairline. “Nothing’s gonna happen. They’re… they’re playing a game.”

Luna’s sobs hitched, confusion warring with fear. “A game?”

“Yeah,” Niki said, forcing a wobbly smile. “A game. And we’re all gonna play.”

“Niki, what the hell are you doing?” Jungwon hissed, his wings flaring out another inch in agitation, brushing the door frame beside him.

But Niki barreled on, eyes darting between the road and Luna. “I need you to do me a favor, okay?” He said to her, leaning closer, voice dropping into a hush. “It’d help a lot if you played along.”

“Niki, shut up” Jungwon barked, shifting his wings closer around Luna like a fortress of white feathers. “What are you trying to do?”

“I’m doing what Jake couldn’t fucking do,” Niki shot back, voice rising, edged with desperation. “We need to leave, Jungwon. We need to get out of here.”

“What?” Jungwon blinked, confusion and panic sparking in his chest. “Leave?”

“Leave?” Luna echoed softly, peering up at him with huge eyes. “Like on a trip?”

“Yes, honey, like on a trip,” Niki said, his voice growing gentle as he met her gaze.

“Will Daddy come?” She whispered with childlike hope, opal eyes almost pleading.

Niki hesitated, his jaw flexing hard enough to creak. “Well…” He tilted his head slightly. “He’s supposed to catch us.”

Luna’s eyes widened further. “Like tag? Or hide and seek?”

“Yes. Just…” Niki trailed off, flicking a look at Jungwon, then back to Luna, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “…an international version.”

Jungwon stared at him, stunned, his wings flickering restlessly at his back, shedding a few fine feathers onto the floor mat. “Niki, this is kidnapping,” he croaked, horror and disbelief crashing through his chest.

“We’re her uncles,” Niki shot back with conviction. “We want to keep her safe. Look around you, Jungwon- this life has shredded every one of us. Look at Luna. Do you want her growing up in this war zone? Do you want her to be like us?”

Jungwon dragged a shaking hand through his hair, then pressed his palms against his eyes as though trying to squeeze the chaos out of his skull. Alice’s face flashed in his mind- her shy grin. Her freckles, her curls, the soft brush of her fingers against his feathers when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. The tiny kitchen they’d dreamed of- the quiet life he’d secretly wanted.

He felt the weight of it pressing on him like a collapsing ceiling. If they left… he’d have to leave her, too. 

“I know you’re trying to emotionally blackmail me, and this is insane, Niki. Jake will kill us if we take her. You know he will,” Jungwon rasped.

“He won’t find us. I’ll make sure of it,” Niki said, his voice steely and desperate all at once.

“Where would we even go?” Jungwon demanded, wings trembling like leaves in a storm. “Niki, you’re out of your mind.”

“Santorini,” Niki said firmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Greece. No one knows us there. Not a single contact. Nobody’s gonna expect us to vanish into a place like that. Jungwon, I’m begging you. Let’s save her while we still can.”

“Niki…” Jungwon whispered, feeling his resolve fraying.

“You’ve wanted out, too. Ever since Jay died. You’ve been talking about it. And now I’m saying I’ll come with you,” Niki looked at Jungwon like he did when they were kids, innocent and eyes shining with a sense of confidence he’d never seen in him. “What have we said since we were kids, huh? In this together. Well, you want to leave and now I’m saying I’ll leave with you. Just say the word.”

Jungwon stared down at Luna, her wide, frightened eyes shining like opals through her tears. He felt his wings shuddering as they closed protectively around her. He knew Niki was right. But he also knew what it meant- to abandon everyone, to rip away the last scraps of normalcy they’d fought so hard to hold onto.

He closed his eyes, chest heaving, breath catching on a sob he refused to let out. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of decision behind his gaze.

“We need to get Y/N.”

Y/N was still staring at the bullet in the center of Emily’s forehead when her phone started vibrating in her pocket.

She couldn’t move at first. She just stood there, rooted to the spot, eyes locked on Emily’s face- the way the small, dark wound seemed to sink into her skull like a tiny black pit, rimmed in ragged flesh and glistening beads of blood. A thin trickle of crimson ran down the bridge of Emily’s nose, seeping over her lips and dripping off her chin to join the widening pool beneath her head.

Emily’s skin was turning pale already, tinged with an eerie bluish-grey, the pallor crawling outward from the bullet hole as though death itself were radiating through her veins. Her eyes were wide open, bloodshot, irises clouding over like milk. They stared blankly past Y/N, and yet somehow felt as though they were boring right into her soul, accusing, condemning.

There were spatters of red on Y/N’s shirt, tiny droplets clinging to her hands and wrists, stark and wet. The sharp, metallic tang of blood was thick enough to taste on her tongue, mingling with the bile rising at the back of her throat.

She blinked and felt something hot slide down her cheek, only realizing a second later that it was a tear- and not blood- that trailed over her skin. She didn’t even remember pulling the trigger. Didn’t remember the exact moment her finger had tightened and the gun had bucked in her hands, sending a spray of blood mist into the air like some horrific watercolor.

She wondered- absurdly- if Emily’s ghost would come back to haunt her, whispering in her ear while she slept, reminding her of the promise they’d once made as friends: no secrets, ever.

Behind her, Jake and Sunghoon were dragging Heeseung’s limp body across the floor, plastic sheeting wrinkling under their boots, murmuring to each other in urgent, clipped voices as they wrapped him in layers of clear wrap like he was a piece of leftover meat.

The phone buzzed again.

Y/N forced herself to look away from Emily’s dead face. She reached into her pocket with trembling fingers, swiping the screen to answer. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/N,” Niki’s voice burst through the line, breathless, urgent, rattling like loose coins in a tin.

Her heart lurched. “Is everything okay? Jungwon? Luna?”

“Yeah, yeah- they’re fine,” Niki’s voice was pitched high, barely contained, that particular edge he only had when he was panicking or plotting. “Listen, I need you to meet us. Now.”

“Why-”

“Just come, please,” Niki cut her off, desperation bleeding through every word. “I’ll send you the location. Just trust me, okay? And don’t tell Jake or Sunghoon. Tell them… tell them you’re going to check on your parents or something. Please, Y/N. Please.”

And before she could even protest, the line went dead.

Y/N stood there, phone still pressed to her ear, listening to the silence buzzing in her skull. She glanced down at Emily’s body again. Blood was creeping in slow rivulets across the tiles, reaching for the toes of her shoes.

She swallowed.

Slowly, she turned to Jake and Sunghoon. Jake had straightened up, wiping sweat and blood from his forehead with the back of his hand. When he looked at her, there was a softness in his eyes that felt bizarrely out of place amidst the carnage.

“Guys… my parents, um…” Y/N’s tongue felt heavy, clumsy in her mouth. “I need to go… find them. Just- check on them.”

Jake nodded, almost tender. “Go. Go find them. It’s okay,” he tried to smile, but it barely reached his eyes.

Sunghoon glanced at her briefly, then went back to taping Heeseung’s ankles. Neither of them questioned it.

Nodding mutely, Y/N backed out of the room, blood sticking to the soles of her boots. She stepped into the cool evening air, drawing in deep breaths that tasted faintly of iron and smoke. Her hands were shaking as she slid behind the wheel of her car.

She drove, following the pin Niki sent her. Her eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror, as if she expected Emily’s pale face to appear there, grinning at her from the shadows.

Niki drove in tight, silent focus, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as city lights rolled past the windshield in neon blurs. Beside him, Jungwon stared out his window with an expression caught between terror and resignation, his wings twitching faintly every time his mind seemed to catch on the same loop of thoughts.

In the backseat, Luna slept curled up under Jungwon’s discarded jacket, her breaths coming in soft, shuddery hiccups even in sleep, a faint shine of tear tracks still drying on her cheeks.

Niki didn’t question Jungwon’s quiet plea when he’d said, “I need to see Alice.”

It was only minutes later that they pulled into a small residential street, the buildings stacked close, the neon lights of the city visible in the distance like a distant galaxy. The car idled as Jungwon sat frozen, his hands white-knuckled in his lap, feathers shivering where they poked out around his shoulder blades.

Finally, he got out, moving as though each step cost him an impossible amount of effort. He stood in front of Alice’s apartment door, breath clouding in the cool night air, eyes fixed on the wooden panel as though it might vanish if he blinked.

He knocked three times, sharp but trembling. Then he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, head bowed so low his hair hung like a curtain over his eyes. He felt like a coward. Like he was about to commit the same sin he’d nearly committed once before- running away instead of facing the disaster swallowing his family whole.

The last time he’d felt like this, he’d been in his final year of university. The mob was falling apart. Niki had just started using drugs, Sunghoon was dragging himself through endless meetings, trying to hold together a legacy that was crumbling like wet paper. Y/N and Jake were clawing at each other’s throats every day about Emily- and Jungwon’s only job, it seemed, was to exist quietly beside all of it- just one more pair of limbs in a house full of ghosts.

The only bright spot back then was Jay and Chelsea’s wedding on the horizon. Even that hope felt like something fragile and temporary, a single bright star about to wink out.

So Jungwon had decided he’d had enough. One dawn, he’d packed a single duffel bag, left his textbooks piled on his desk, and slipped away on a train to another city. He’d even enrolled in a different university under a different name, desperate to start over, convinced he could scrub the blood off his family name and carve himself a life that wasn’t steeped in secrets and violence.

He lasted a month.

Sunghoon found him eventually, tracked him down in the cafeteria of a small campus miles from home. Sunghoon hadn’t shouted, hadn’t threatened him. He’d simply looked at him across a table of stainless steel and rice bowls and whispered, “Come home, please.”

Jungwon remembered how angry Y/N had been with him for giving up so easily. How she’d stood in the kitchen, shaking, voice hoarse from screaming, telling him that running never fixed anything- that you had to stand and fight for the people you loved. Not long after that, he started therapy and met Alice.

But here he was again, letting Niki talk about fleeing the country like it was the only possible answer.

The door finally creaked open. Alice stood in the doorway, hair still damp from a shower, soft curls bouncing against her shoulders, the faint shimmer of droplets catching the hallway light. Her wings unfurled the instant she saw who it was- black feathers flaring with instinctive joy- but as her eyes scanned his face, the joy evaporated. Her wings folded back in, trembling faintly, as she took in his pallor and the hollow look in his eyes.

“Jungwon?” She murmured, tilting her head, trying to catch his gaze. “Is everything okay?”

He shook his head once, hair falling messily across his brow. His throat worked, but no words came out. Alice stepped closer, hands lifting toward his cheeks, but he flinched and took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. His voice came out cracked and hoarse. “I’m sorry.” He repeated it once- twice, a third time, the words crumbled on his tongue each time, like ash.

Alice’s face crumpled in confusion and fear. She reached for him again, slower this time, as though trying not to startle a wounded animal. “Hey, Jungwon?” She whispered, eyes shimmering. “Please talk to me. What happened? Is it Luna? Is it Jake?”

“I don’t want you to therapize me right now,” Jungwon snapped, the words sharp enough to slice the air between them.

Alice recoiled a fraction, swallowing hard. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, and his wings drooped behind him, as though the weight of his own words was pulling them down.

Alice blinked rapidly, eyes glossing over as she tried to keep her voice steady. “What… what are you apologizing for?”

“I’m leaving,” Jungwon said, voice trembling like glass about to shatter.

Alice stood there, staring at him as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning in his eyes. The silence stretched painfully long. A thousand thoughts crashed through her mind all at once- Was he in danger? Was he leaving her? What did any of it mean?

But she held those questions inside. Over time, she’d learned- painfully, stubbornly- that loving Jungwon meant accepting the parts of his life cloaked in secrecy. It meant swallowing back questions that burned on her tongue because she knew, deep down, that whatever he did was for her safety, for Luna’s safety, for all of them. It didn’t make it hurt less, but she’d learned not to push him past his limits.

She stared down at her feet, picking at a chip of blue nail polish on her thumb, her voice barely a whisper. “Where?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he said, jaw clenching. His hands flexed at his sides, as though fighting the urge to reach for her.

Alice’s wings drooped even lower, the tips grazing the floor. “So… this is it?” She whispered, voice so quiet it barely reached him.

“I don’t want it to be,” he confessed. And finally, finally, their eyes met. Both sets were glassy, shining with unshed tears, both of them drowning under the same suffocating fear of losing each other.

Jungwon took two steps forward. He reached for her almost helplessly and drew her into his chest, burying his face in the damp strands of her hair. A single sob tore out of him when he realized this might be the last time he’d ever hold her, smell her shampoo, feel the soft rustle of her wings folding around his back like a shield.

Alice wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers trembling where they pressed into his jacket. Her wings stretched around them both, cocooning them in a soft, trembling shelter. And though a storm of questions raged inside her, she stayed silent, pressing her face into his shoulder, willing herself to believe that love might still be enough to bring him back to her.

Meanwhile, in the car parked just a few houses down, Niki was tapping the steering wheel impatiently- thumbs drumming a rhythm that didn’t match the thunderous beat of his heart. His jaw clenched, muscles ticking as his eyes flicked from the windshield to the rearview mirror to the sleeping child in the back seat. Luna’s tiny form was still curled up beneath Jungwon’s jacket, her cheek pressed into it, mouth slightly open, breath coming in slow puffs. She hadn’t stirred since they'd pulled away from the road, not even when he hit a pothole a few blocks earlier.

The silence in the car pressed in on him- too heavy, too still- and his fingers itched as he reached into the center console, pulled out his phone, and opened Sophie’s chat.

He stared at it.

Typed: I'm sorry.

Deleted it.

Typed again: You won’t understand, but I can’t stay.

Deleted.

He sighed, rubbed the heel of his hand against his chest like he could scrub the ache away, then typed again- his thumb hovering over the screen: I’m sorry. I have to leave.

He sent it. 

And then he just stared.

The screen remained blank. No typing bubble, no blue ticks, no read receipt. She was probably at work. Or with her family. 

Five minutes passed.

Nothing.

He clenched his jaw and- before he could change his mind- he blocked the contact. The name disappeared from his list like she’d never existed. Then, with more force than he meant, he shoved the phone into the glove compartment and slammed it shut. The plastic snapped with a sharp thud.

The noise startled Luna. She stirred in the backseat, brow furrowing, a soft whimper escaping her lips. But she didn’t wake up. She just turned over in her sleep, seeking warmth.

Niki let out a shaky breath, head falling back against the seat. The guilt was suffocating; the fear even more so. What the hell was he doing? What kind of man leaves in the middle of the day with someone else’s daughter in the backseat with no plan beyond “anywhere but here”? He didn’t know. He only knew that if he stayed, something worse might happen. And he couldn’t bear that- not to Luna, not to Jungwon, not to Y/N, not to anyone.

At the thought of her, he looked up.

From the rearview mirror, he saw her.

Y/N.

She was walking toward the car, arms wrapped tightly around herself, a jacket pulled hastily over her frame like armor. Her head was down, steps slow, cautious, like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to reach the car or turn around and disappear altogether.

When she reached the dark car idling near the curb, she slipped into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

Luna was curled up asleep in the back, hair falling across her cheek, breathing soft and even.

Y/N stared at her for a long second, heart twisting. Then she turned to Niki, who sat gripping the wheel like he might crush it in his fists.

“What’s going on, Niki?” She demanded, her voice low, trembling with exhaustion and barely restrained fear. Blood- dried, dark, clinging to the fabric of her sleeves and the strands of her hair- still carried the sour metallic scent of what she’d done, what they’d all done. She could still feel the recoil in her palms, the ringing in her ears. Her hands hadn’t stopped shaking since.

Jake and his brothers- they’d all done this before. They’d had many victims under their belts already. And she’d watched lives be taken away multiple times before and she was never affected by it. 

But Y/N had never killed anyone before. And she didn’t think her niece’s mother would be her first claim.

“We’re leaving,” Niki said, eyes still locked on the windshield like he couldn’t bear to look at her just yet. His fingers tapped a nervous, uneven rhythm against the steering wheel, and his leg bounced restlessly. His voice was flat but trembling underneath- too steady to be calm, too shaky to be convincing.

“…What?” Her voice came out in disbelief, a whisper.

“We’re leaving. To Santorini. Me and Jungwon. And Luna. And you,” he turned to her then, finally, eyes blown wide, brimming with the kind of frantic conviction that only ever came from desperation. “We’re getting out of here, Y/N.”

A beat of silence passed. And then-

“Niki, are you out of your fucking mind?” Her voice rose sharply, only to dip again as she cast a glance toward the back seat- Luna, still curled into a ball, cheeks sticky with dried tears, soft breaths fogging up the glass. “This is cruel. And stupid. You can’t just run away- do you hear yourself? What the hell are you even saying?”

“No,” Niki said, and this time it came with a shake of his head, abrupt and ragged, like he was trying to shake the panic out of his skull. “Y/N, listen to me. Really listen. It’s not safe anymore. It hasn’t been safe in years- but this? This is different. You know it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“You’re separating a daughter from her father, Niki,” Y/N hissed, leaning closer, her voice low and vicious, her fingers clutching the edge of her seat so tightly her knuckles went white. “Do you even hear how unrealistic this is? You think Luna’s just going to forget Jake? That she’s going to grow up and not hate us for taking her away from him? From everything she’s ever known?”

“She won’t remember,” Niki shot back, his voice sharp and serrated. “Tell me, Y/N. Do you remember anything from when you were five?”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her jaw twitched. “That’s not the same. That’s not fair. She’s not going to forget this. This is trauma- real trauma- you’re about to put her through.”

“She’s already traumatized,” Niki barked, his hand slamming against the steering wheel, the echo of it bouncing around the inside of the car. “She just watched her grandmother tied up. She sat on a couch next to the woman who abandoned her. She saw blood, Y/N- she saw people getting punched. She saw her father act like an animal. You think staying here is going to be better? You think that’s something a five-year-old just walks off?”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes flickering back to Luna’s sleeping form.

“She asked us,” Niki continued, voice cracking now, desperation climbing with every word. “She asked if Jake was going to end up like Jay.”

Her heart twitched. “What?” She breathed.

“So tell me, Y/N- what’s the fucking difference between us taking her now, giving her peace and a normal life, versus letting her rot in this blood bath until she breaks the same way we did?”

Y/N’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her throat burned. Her hands trembled in her lap.

“She’ll hate us,” she whispered finally. “She’ll hate us for the rest of her life.”

“I’ll let her hate me,” Niki said, and his voice was calm now, eerily so. “I can handle her hating me. That means she lived long enough to do it. That means she’s safe somewhere, angry, stubborn, healthy. I can live with that. I can live with her never forgiving me. What I can’t live with is burying her. Not after Jay.”

“Emily is dead, Niki,” she admitted- it was her sin to admit, her sin to speak, and Y/N spoke as though it was her final admission. “And I shot her. You think she won’t hate me if she ever finds out, by chance, that her mother had been alive and I was the one that killed her?” Niki had to control his expression but Y/N saw it- the sharp tug of his lips, the twitch in his cheeks and eyebrows. “At least she’ll be alive while hating you.”

Y/N closed her eyes. The memory of Jay’s death came rushing back in brutal flashes- sirens, screams, the smell of the hospital, confused eyes. Her hand instinctively pressed over her chest as if trying to still her own racing heart.

“I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes,” Niki breathed. “Say yes, Y/N. Say we’re going to get her out of here. That we’re going to stop this cycle. That we’re going to give her a life worth living. Please.”

Her throat felt too tight to speak. Her fingers dug into the edge of her jeans. She looked once more at Luna, soft and fragile in the backseat, unaware of the war being waged over her future.

Niki leaned closer, voice low, fierce, begging now. “Come on, Y/N. You know I’m right. She deserves better. You and I- we’re not innocent. But she still is. Don’t let them take that from her. She deserves better. Luna deserves better than this.”

“I have every right to kill you too,” she whispered finally. “The only thing that’s stopping me is Luna.”

Jake gave a broken, soft laugh, though his eyes glistened. “If it weren’t for her…I think I’d let you kill me.”

The silence between them turned heavy again, thick with things neither of them knew how to say.

“Why do you like hurting me, Jake?” She asked, her voice a quiet, raw wound.

He felt his chest splinter at the edges, felt the words clawing up his throat. “I don’t like hurting you,” he breathed. “Fuck, Y/N- I hate myself for it.”

“It’s not that hard to communicate,” she said. “I don’t know why you hide everything from me.”

Jake exhaled shakily. “I’m sorry,” he said again, voice so low it was almost inaudible. “You deserve better than this. You deserve better than me.”

Jungwon slipped into the back seat quietly, the door clicking shut like the closing of a vault. For a moment, he just sat there, staring blankly at the back of the passenger seat, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Then, as though remembering himself, he shifted Luna’s tiny form so that her head lay pillowed against his thigh.

Niki and Y/N both turned to look at him in unison.  Jungwon looked… hollow. Like a boy who’d run for miles and come up gasping, only to realize he’d reached the edge of the world and there was nowhere left to go. His eyes were red and glassy, framed by dark smudges that seemed to sink into his skin. His wings- those magnificent white feathers usually held high and proud- were drooping behind his shoulders like they were too heavy for him to carry.

Y/N’s voice was small, incredulous. “You said goodbye to Alice?”

Jungwon didn’t answer right away. He simply held Y/N’s gaze, eyes dark and burning, as though daring her to keep asking. His jaw clenched, a flicker of pain crossing his features. Then he slowly lowered his gaze to Luna, and his fingers began combing through her hair in gentle, repetitive motions. Each stroke looked like a silent apology for everything he was about to take from her.

“Are we doing this or what?” He asked finally, his voice hoarse and rough, scraped raw from all the words he hadn’t said.

Niki turned in the driver’s seat to look at Y/N, his face open and aching, hope fighting with terror in the way his eyes shone under the streetlights.

Y/N lowered her head, unable to bear the weight of Jungwon’s stare. Guilt clawed its way up her chest, closing her throat until she could hardly breathe. She stared down at her trembling hands, stained faintly with dried blood, and realized that somewhere along the way, she’d become someone capable of agreeing to this.

“Yeah,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and forced herself to say it again, stronger this time. “Yeah.”

When Jake pulled up to the house, the stench of blood still thick in his nose and two corpses wrapped in plastic decomposing in the trunk, he expected the world inside his home to be normal- as unrealistic as that sounded.

He expected to hear Luna’s soft laughter drifting through the living room, expected to see her perched in Y/N’s lap with a half-finished cup of hot chocolate in hand and a cartoon playing on the TV. Maybe Niki would be passed out on the couch, limbs draped over Jungwon, who’d be too tired to care, and Y/N would roll her eyes when Jake walked in but smile anyway, like she always did.

But the house was empty.

Not quiet- empty.

The kind of stillness that settled like a chill in their spines, like silence that had grown roots. No lights were on, no TV playing. The cushions on the couch hadn’t been touched. The air inside was stale, undisturbed. It stayed the way they had first left it in a hurry.

Jake turned toward Sunghoon, who’d followed him in with a half-unloaded pistol still tucked in his waistband. “Where is everyone?” He asked, voice flat with dread.

“They must be around somewhere,” Sunghoon replied, but his voice cracked just slightly at the end, betraying the unease curdling in his gut. “Just check the rooms, yeah?”

They split up quickly, calling out names half-heartedly into the void of the house. Jake checked Luna’s room first- bed neatly made, the stuffed unicorn she never slept without gone from its usual place. He moved to the bedrooms, the office, the gym, the backyard. 

Nothing. 

Sunghoon checked the kitchen, the spare rooms, the garage. 

Still nothing. 

The place felt abandoned, as if it had been emptied in a hurry.

Jake stood in Luna’s room, blinking rapidly at the bare shelf above her desk where her favorite toys usually sat. “Some of Niki and Jungwon’s clothes are missing,” he said finally, each word like a brick on his tongue. “So are Luna’s. And her stuffed animal. Her backpack.”

Sunghoon joined him, pale and tight-lipped. “There’s cash missing from the locker,” he said grimly. “Passports too. They’ve… they’ve actually gone.”

Jake shook his head, refusing to believe what was right in front of him. “No. They wouldn’t do that. They’re probably just at Y/N’s apartment. Or Mom and Dad’s. This isn’t- this isn’t what it looks like.”

Sunghoon, already dialing, tried each number- Y/N’s, Niki’s, Jungwon’s. Every single one went straight to voicemail. No rings, no signal- like they’d fallen off the face of the Earth.

He lowered the phone and looked at Jake, eyes dark. “They’re not picking up.”

Jake’s throat tightened as he dragged his feet toward the front door. “Let’s check Y/N’s place.”

They drove in silence, the weight of absence sitting between them like a body. When they reached her building, Jake used the emergency key she had given them- the one she made them swear to only use if something went horribly wrong. The moment the door opened, the truth struck with finality.

It was abandonment too. 

The scent of her morning coffee still lingered in the air, her favorite mug sat on the kitchen island, stained with remnants of her last sip. Her laptop sat open, screen dark, and the comforter on her bed was half-kicked off like she’d left in a rush. But the closet had been cleared out. The drawer where she kept her passport and emergency cash was empty- only her gun remained.

Jake’s knees buckled, and he sat down hard on the edge of her bed, his face buried in his hands.

“They took my daughter with them,” he whispered. “They left. They actually left.”

Sunghoon crouched beside him, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let’s not panic. Maybe they’re at mom and dad’s.”

He tried to imagine Luna’s face- was she confused? Did she cry for him? Did she look back over her shoulder and ask for her dad, or did she just go, because her aunt and uncles told her it was okay? Because she trusted them too much to question it?

“Come on, Jake,” Sunghoon coaxed. “Let’s go.”

When they reached David’s house, Jake knew in the rational corners of his mind that he wouldn’t find Luna, Y/N, or his brothers there- but some stubborn, foolish part of him still hoped. 

He hoped he’d walk through the door and see Luna curled up on Helen’s lap, Y/N perched at the kitchen counter with her arms crossed in guarded relief, Niki pacing and ranting about how stupid they’d all been, Jungwon quiet but safe in the corner. 

He hoped for the impossible.

But when he stepped inside and found only emptiness echoing through the rooms, the realization burrowed deeper into his chest like a hot blade twisting into flesh.

In the kitchen, Helen and Nayna were huddled close, their wings trembling as they clung to each other. Nayna’s face was pale and wet with tears, her voice shaking as she rambled in broken sentences that seemed half prayer, half panicked confession.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to any of them,” Helen whispered, voice rough with the effort of holding back her own sobs as she hugged Nayna tightly.

Martin and David stood across from them, exchanging glances heavy with confusion and fear. Martin looked as though he’d aged ten years in a day, while David’s jaw was clenched so hard his teeth were probably on the verge of cracking.

When Jake and Sunghoon entered the kitchen, the relief that bloomed across their parents’ faces was almost instantly strangled by a surge of questions.

“What happened?” David barked, his voice echoing off the tile. “What did you do?”

Jake swallowed hard, his throat raw. “Emily’s dead,” he forced out.

Silence crashed into the kitchen like a tidal wave. Helen stiffened, Nayna’s breath caught in her chest, and even Martin’s wings faltered where they hung behind him.

“Y/N shot her,” Sunghoon said, his voice low, as if confessing a crime to the priest. “She’s dead.”

Nayna’s eyes darted around frantically, scanning behind Jake and Sunghoon as though expecting her daughter to appear from the shadows. “Where is she, then?” She whispered, trembling. “Where’s Y/N?”

Jake and Sunghoon said nothing.

“Where is she, Jake?” David demanded, slamming his palm down onto the kitchen counter so hard the sound cracked through the house.

And for just a split second, Jake was fifteen years old again, standing in the same kitchen, drenched in sweat after a brawl at school, David towering over him and Sunghoon, wings bristling in fury, demanding why they couldn’t stop dragging the family’s name through the mud. But this time, there was no Jay at his side to make some half-assed joke to defuse the tension. There was no mischief in the air, only the hollow, echoing ache of absence.

“We… we can’t find them,” Jake whispered, voice barely audible.

“What do you mean, you can’t find them?” Martin’s brows snapped together, his voice trembling with disbelief. “Did someone take- ”

“No,” Jake shook his head fiercely, feeling tears sting his eyes. “No. They left. Y/N, Niki, Jungwon. They… they took Luna. And they left.”

“They took Luna?!” David roared, his voice reverberating off the cabinets, wings snapping open so hard a few dark feathers scattered to the floor. “Are you fucking joking right now?”

Jake and Sunghoon both flinched as though struck.

“What is it with you driving people away, Jake?” David bellowed, voice breaking on the edges of fury. “First the mother of your child- now your own fucking brothers, the one woman who actually had faith in you, and your daughter.”

Helen tried to intervene, laying a trembling hand on David’s shoulder. “Honey, now’s not-”

“No!” David roared louder, shoving her hand away. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you ruining this family, tearing us apart piece by piece. I’ll kill you myself if I have to, Jake- bring them back or I swear to God-”

“I’ll bring them back,” Jake gasped out, his voice cracking under the weight of a hundred emotions clawing at his throat. His arms trembled where they hung by his sides. “I’ll find them. I promise. I’ll bring them back.”

Jake’s breath stuttered, his shoulders rising and falling like he was trying to force the anger back into his ribs. “What the fuck was I supposed to do, huh? You were part of the conversation too-”

“Be a little fucking sensitive,” Sunghoon hissed, cutting him off, voice brittle with frustration. He flung his arms out, fingers splayed, as if trying to physically shove the truth into Jake’s chest. “You treat her like shit and she puts up with it. She has every right in the world to blame you for Jay’s death, but she doesn’t. She’s killing herself trying to keep the fucking peace. You hurt her right now- and she still chooses to sleep under this roof instead of running back to her own apartment. She put Jungwon into therapy but she doesn’t know how to help herself, Jake.”

Jake blinked, his eyes darting toward the door, as though he might tear it open and go check for himself. “She’s asleep?” He murmured, almost as if the question embarrassed him.

“Yes,” Sunghoon confirmed, his voice softer now but still carrying an undertone of anger. “Not even a year ago, she still hated you, Jake. Don’t take her for granted. We both know how easy it is for her to up and leave when she’s had enough.”

FIVE YEARS AGO

Y/N stood on Jake’s doorstep, a plastic grocery bag clutched so tightly in her fist that the handles cut into her fingers. The bag crinkled softly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, glaring at the peeling paint of the door as if she could will it to open on its own.

It had taken weeks to get her here. Weeks of Sunghoon showing up at her room, dark circles under his eyes, voice breaking as he’d said again and again, “he’s falling apart, Y/N. And only you know how to fix him- it’s always been you.”

Niki had tried too, though his words were sharper, angrier. “You’re mad at him. Fine. So am I. But you’re not punishing Jake by staying away- you’re punishing the rest of us.”

Jungwon, quiet as always, had only said, “he’s not eating. Not sleeping. I’m scared he’ll die in that house.”

So Y/N had come. Even though rage still burned low and steady in her chest. Even though just the thought of looking at Jake made her feel like she might either scream or dissolve into tears.

She raised her hand and knocked, sharp and quick. Silence stretched on the other side of the door, so oppressive she thought she’d suffocate in it. She lifted her hand again- when the lock finally clicked.

The door swung open a few inches, and Jake stood there.

He looked… wrecked.

His hair was longer than usual, hanging in unwashed strands around his face. He wore the same faded t-shirt she’d seen him in at the night of the funeral, a small stain of baby formula on the shoulder. His eyes were red, rimmed with purple shadows so deep they looked like bruises, and there was stubble on his jaw that she’d never seen him let grow out before. 

His wings… they’d disappeared. She didn’t know when that had happened. 

He stared at her for a second like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Y/N lifted the grocery bag a little, her glare sharpening. “Are you gonna let me in or not?”

Jake didn’t say a word. He just stepped back and opened the door wider.

Inside, the house was a mess. Dishes piled high in the sink, empty baby bottles scattered across the coffee table, a faint smell of sour milk hung in the air. On the couch, a soft pink blanket lay rumpled where a baby had clearly been moments before.

Y/N stepped inside, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. She dropped the bag on the kitchen island- diapers, formula, a box of baby wipes peeking out the top- and whirled on Jake.

“You look like hell.”

Jake let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought I’d be a good father,” he said, his words tumbling out ragged and low. “But I’m failing at that too.”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I didn’t know how,” Jake whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I keep… I keep messing everything up. She cries and I don’t know why. I don’t know what she needs. I don’t know if she… even likes me,” his shoulders trembled as he spoke. “I don’t know how to do this alone.”

Y/N sucked in a breath. She looked past him, into the dim living room, where she could hear soft, hiccuping cries.

“Let me see her,” she said finally, her voice tight but steady.

Jake hesitated for a moment, then guided her to a room upstairs.

It was an empty room, cleaner than the rest of the house. The walls were painted in pink, the windows had wispy purple curtains. And In a bassinet at the centre of the room, illuminated by the sunlight seeping into the room, a tiny baby wailed, her fists flailing.

Y/N crossed the room, dropped the grocery bag on the counter, and gently lifted Luna into her arms. The baby’s cries quieted a fraction as Y/N shifted her weight and rocked her.

“Hey,” she murmured, brushing a trembling hand over the baby’s fine hair. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re not alone.”

Jake watched her, his chest heaving, tears brimming in his eyes.

Without looking at him, Y/N said, “Go take a shower. And then we’ll figure this out.”

Jake let out a strangled noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, nodding as he turned away.

And as the baby settled against her chest, Y/N realized that leaving had never really been an option.

He always insisted that it gave him charisma- or, even better, made him look intimidating sometimes. Just like now, when his hair was bleached and eyebrows changed to match.

His Hyungs loved to make fun of him for it, especially Sunghoon. But at least they didn’t call him Niki anymore.

“Shut up, Hyung,” he rolled his eyes. And though he sounded like he spat the words with malice, Sunghoon just grinned at him.

Jay- his boss- was sprawled out on the couch beside Sunghoon, phone caressed lazily in his hand. His eyes didn’t flicker up to see Riki’s new hairstyle. “I’m not gonna bother looking,” he muttered. “I already know it’s something stupid.”

“I think I look nice with it,” Riki crossed his arms in defense, muscles flexing.

The boy had changed a lot since they brought him into the business. The transformation came from relentless hours of honing his skills, grueling gym sessions, and a disciplined diet. Riki had become known for his sharp technique in martial arts- so much so that he’d somehow surpassed even Jungwon, who was formally trained in taekwondo. And when it came to handling a knife or firing a gun, his precision was unnerving- deadly, even. No one ever saw it coming. He may have been the youngest, but in many ways, he was the most formidable.

“Riki, I can barely see your face,” Sunghoon commented. “Everything’s blurring together,” he waved a hand vaguely in front of his eyes for emphasis.

“Jake Hyung would like it,” Riki rolled his eyes again, looking to the side of the room where a table of framed pictures sat. There were many pictures, in many of which Riki was featured in. Mostly, though, it was Jay with his sister or Jake. “Where is he, anyway?”

That got Jay to finally lift his head, attention steering away from whatever interesting thing he was reading on his phone. “He and my sister have gone out on a date,” Jay groaned and rolled his head to lean against the couch cushion. It seemed that the thought of his best friend and sister dating still bothered him- though he’d given them his blessings a long time ago. “Two year anniversary or something- oh wow, Riki. Sunghoon’s right, I really can’t see your face.”

Jay’s expression of surprise and bewilderment brought Sunghoon down into a fit of laughter. He clutched his stomach and fell sideways into the couch, mouth wide in a smile and eyes crinkled in cheer.

Riki just stared at them, unamused, arms still crossed and eyes narrowing to slits.

“I’m the boss, and somehow, you’ve grown to look scarier than me,” Jay observed.

“You’ve gone soft, Hyung,” Riki deadpanned.

Which, technically, was true. Ever since he started mending his relationship with his sister, started listening to her and taking her advice on the business, the weight on Jay’s shoulders had lifted- only slightly. Everyone preferred working with this version of Jay- the one that listened, the one that stopped and thought before making rash decisions and the one that started caring more about his people than the business in itself.

“It’s a good thing,” Riki quickly added before Jay’s expression could fall.

Behind them, Heeseung had entered the room, the screen of his phone lifted towards them. His steps were frantic, impatient; eyes wide and confused. “Did you guys see this?”

“Jay must have. He’s been on his phone for over an hour,” Niki grinned at his oldest Hyung, who, in return, responded with annoyance and a shake of his head.

“Careful, little shit,” Jay pointed a finger at him, moving to reach for his phone that had wedged itself between couch cushions. “I can still snap.”

Sunghoon, too, opened his phone in hopes of looking for what Heeseung was referring to. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

“No one got the email?” Hesseung went on, staring at his screen like he could find some sort of clue that made sense of his spiralling. “Andrei wants to see us.”

Andrei had been the oldest friend of Jay’s family. He and Jay’s father had grown up side by side- same neighborhood, same school, same college- until they graduated and stepped into the mafia world together, a calculated risk that turned into a legacy. But when Jay’s father stepped away from the life and handed the reins to his son, Andrei remained. In some ways, he still outranked them both. He watched over Jay and everyone close to him- quietly, but with expectations that were never spoken yet always understood. Around Andrei, it felt like they were walking on thin ice. One word from him, one simple request, could bring everything to a standstill.

“What?” Jay’s voice almost disappeared.

Riki and Sunghoon could only stare at Heeseung, frozen in their expressions of uncertainty.

“Let me see,” Riki took the phone from Heeseung and examined the email.

There really was nothing much in it- it was an invitation to his house. For lunch. With his family- only him and his daughter and their two dogs.

“What in the world,” Riki mumbled. “He wants to have lunch?”

Jay grumbled and held his head in his hands.

Sunghoon stared as though there was a black hole in front of him. “I heard that the last time he called someone for lunch, he’d beheaded them and boiled their parts in acid.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Heeseung pointed at Sunghoon, as though they were relating to something. “The rumor spread like wildfire.”

“Guy’s, you can’t seriously believe that,” Riki tutted. “It was a rumor.”

The front door had opened with a familiar thud and footsteps made their way down the hallway- they could recognise it. It was Jake and Jocelyn (Jay’s sister) back from their date, arms and glee wrapped around each other like blankets. They stumbled into the hall with bright smiles, the kind that somehow had a way of calming everyone down.

But not this time, apparently. Everyone was still confused.

Jake and Jocelyn’s smiles faltered.

“Why does everyone look like that,” Jocelyn’s eyes scanned the room, slowly shifting from Riki, to Heeseung, to Sunghoon then finally, to her brother, Jay. “Did someone die or something?”

Jake let out a low chuckle. “No way,” he shook his head. But when no one reacted to him, his chuckle faltered too. “Someone actually died?”

“No,” Sunghoon swallowed. “But someone might as well.”

“Hyung,” Riki started. “You’re part of the biggest mafia gang in the country and you’re squealing like a child right now.”

Sunghoon’s face snapped towards him, fear replaced by anger now. “What did Jay just say? I can still snap.”

Jocelyn ran to Jay’s side, wrapping her arm around his hunched frame. Jake went over to Heeseung to see the invite everyone had been talking about.

“Andrei?” Jake mused. “It’s been like, what, two- three years since we’ve seen the man?”

“Yeah, the last time ya’ll saw him, I was there,” Y/N looked back, almost fondly. “I remember him being really sweet.”

“Yeah? Well,” Jay straightened again. “He’s nice until someone pisses him off.”

“Have you pissed him off?”

“No.”

Jocelyn smiled softly. “Then why are you worried?”

II

Andrei’s house was big.

Everytime Riki saw it- in person a few years ago, through pictures and once on a feature in an architecture magazine- he was always taken by awe. It was bigger than his house, the one he shared with Jay and everyone else. It was bigger than most houses. Too big for just two people, that was for sure.

The drive from the gate of the estate to the front door took about five minutes- he knew because the radio in the car played Hotel California from start to finish.

They’d arrived in two cars- Riki, Jay, Jake and Jocelyn in one, the rest in the other.

The ride was quiet, save for the music and the occasional glance exchanged between Jay and Jocelyn in the backseat. Jay hadn’t said much since reading the email, and while Riki tried to act unbothered- tapping his fingers on the wheel and humming along to the chorus-he could feel the tension lingering in the car like static.

Jake, riding shotgun, finally broke the silence. “So… what do we think this is? A family catch-up? Or a test?”

Riki didn’t answer, just kept driving with his jaw clenched and bleached eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Jay didn’t want to answer, judging by the way his knee bounced slightly, restless.

“Could be both,” Jocelyn offered, her voice calm but careful. “He wouldn’t ask to see all of us unless it meant something.”

As they pulled up to the front entrance, two large black hounds sat poised by the doorway- Andrei’s dogs, just as massive and intimidating as Riki remembered. The front of the house looked like a modern fortress, all sharp angles and glass, with a stone driveway wide enough to host a small parade.

The second car pulled up behind them. Heeseung stepped out first, muttering under his breath. Sunghoon followed, unusually quiet, and Jungwon and Sunoo trailed behind, jaws tight with focus.

They all gathered at the base of the stairs before anyone dared to ring the doorbell.

“I feel like we’re walking into a war room,” Sunoo said, eyeing the tall double doors.

“Shut up,” Jay muttered, adjusting his coat. He turned to his sister. “Stay close.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

The door had opened without them having to knock, as though the house had sensed their presence. They knew it wasn’t magic- they were automated doors. But the fear that lingered on their nerves made them believe whatever wild thought that entered their heads.

The inside of Andrei’s house was as breathtaking as it was unsettling.

It was cold- not in temperature, but in atmosphere. The kind of cold that whispered power in polished surfaces and quiet corners. The floors were black marble with veins of silver running through them like cracks in glass. Every footstep echoed, soft but distinct, as though the house wanted to remember every person who walked through it.

Tall ceilings loomed overhead, supported by clean-lined columns that stood like silent sentinels. The walls were a soft matte grey, broken up by strange, modern art- sculptures that twisted in forms too abstract to name, and paintings that bled shadows and red.

Nothing felt homely- not a photo frame, not a fingerprint- just wealth, precision, and intention.

To the right, an enormous staircase curved upward like a spine, its railing a dark metal so finely crafted it almost looked like lace. A chandelier hung above it, not the classic crystal kind but an avant-garde fixture of golden rods and spheres, suspended in deliberate chaos.

Even the air smelled expensive- notes of cedar, clean linen, and something older, like history.

Heeseung’s eyes traced the perimeter, already mapping exits. Jungwon said nothing, jaw tight. Sunoo’s expression was unreadable, but his fingers tapped nervously against his thigh.

“This place could be a museum,” Sunghoon whispered under his breath.

“No,” Jake said beside him. “Museums feel alive.”

Andrei appeared at the end of the grand hallway, framed by the pale gold light spilling through the archways behind him. A pipe hung lazily from the corner of his mouth- smoke curling upward in soft spirals. It was new. Jay didn’t remember him ever smoking a pipe.

But what struck him more than the pipe was the smile- wide, warm, disarming- like they were long-lost family returning home.

“You came,” Andrei beamed, spreading his arms.

“Of course we did,” Jay said, voice steady as he stepped forward. The two men embraced- brief, firm, the kind of hug between people who respected each other but still watched their backs.

Then Andrei turned to Jocelyn, his expression softening further. “Darling,” he murmured, pulling her in. His hug with her lasted longer, less guarded. “You’ve grown into your mother’s mirror.”

Jocelyn smiled, a bit taken aback but not uncomfortable. “You talk like a poet, Andrei.”

He chuckled, stepping back, removing the pipe just long enough to blow the smoke away from their faces.

Behind them, the others stood quietly- still, as if unsure whether to approach or wait for orders.

Andrei’s eyes flicked to them. “Come now,” he said, arms open again. “What’s with all the stiffness? This is lunch, not an ambush.”

No one moved right away. Then Riki took the first step.

“We brought wine,” he offered, holding up the bottle he’d been carrying.

Andrei’s grin widened. “Ah, the pretty one with bleached hair. You never disappoint. Niki, was it?”

“Riki,” he responded with a curt nod.

Andre hummed, stared him in the eye for two seconds, and then turned to lead everyone into the dining hall.

Riki turned to Sunghoon with a cheeky grin, as though he’d won in some sort of bet. “He likes my hair.”

Andrei led them through a long, high-ceilinged hallway, his steps unhurried, pipe still trailing smoke like a veil. Their footsteps filled the silence in a rhythm that felt ceremonial- no one dared to speak.

The dining hall doors were already open.

Inside, the room glowed gold under a massive chandelier. The table was long, dark wood with a flawless polish, stretched out like something from a royal painting. The spread laid across it was nothing short of a feast- roast meats, platters of grilled vegetables, seafood glistening with butter and herbs, fresh bread stacked like bricks, and wine in glass decanters so clear they looked invisible.

Yet every chair stood empty, waiting.

Andrei took his place at the head of the table, the chair like a throne. The other end of the table remained unoccupied. No one even glanced at it for too long- it had once belonged to his wife. No one dared sit there.

Silently, they filled in the seats along the sides. Jay took the one closest to Andrei on the left, Jocelyn beside him. Riki ended up across from Sunghoon and Jungwon, and Jake between Heeseung and Sunoo.

Waiters appeared with practiced precision, dressed in uniform black, serving portions without a word. The clinking of silverware and glass filled the room for a moment- almost soothing, if not for the tension that buzzed faintly beneath the surface.

“So,” Andrei said, voice light as he poured himself a glass of wine. “How’s business, Jay?”

Jay gave a clipped smile. “Stable. Clean. Quiet.”

Andrei laughed under his breath, the kind of laugh that said he didn’t believe in quiet. “That’s good. Quiet means you’re doing something right.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries- Sunghoon complimenting the food, Jocelyn asking about the chef, Riki quietly stabbing into a grilled shrimp- until the sound of soft footsteps interrupted them.

Everyone turned.

A girl walked in- cooly, not hurried, like she’d been planning her entrance to the tea.

She was effortlessly put together- white dress that reached her knees, hair falling down her back in waves. Her eyes were sharp, fox-like, a flicker of amusement playing in them even though she hadn’t said a word yet. She carried herself with a kind of lazy confidence- born from growing up in rooms where men lowered their voices when her father walked in.

“This is my daughter,” Andrei said as she came to his side. “Y/N.”

Y/N offered a short nod, her gaze flickering across the table- assessing, not greeting. “Hi,” she said simply, sliding into the empty seat next to her father.

She didn't try to make conversation. She didn't even need to.

Andrei leaned back in his chair, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I brought you all here for a reason,” he said, letting the pipe rest in an ashtray beside him. “And while I do enjoy seeing familiar faces… this wasn’t just a social call.”

The table quieted. All eyes turned to him.

“It’s about her,” he continued, glancing toward Y/N, who looked mildly annoyed at being the center of attention.

Jay frowned. “What do you mean?”

Andrei raised his glass but didn’t drink. “She’s grown up around all this,” he gestured loosely. “But I never taught her how to protect herself. Call it a father’s guilt. Or maybe I’m getting old. Either way, ” his eyes landed on Riki, “I want him to train her.”

Riki blinked. “Me?”

“You’re the best we’ve got,” Andrei said plainly. “And you’re on Jay’s side, which means you’re on mine. Who better to trust?”

The room was silent again.

Riki looked to Jay for some unspoken signal, but Jay’s face gave away nothing.

III

The hallway lights were dim, and most of the house had gone quiet for the evening. Riki was in the shared living room back at their place, sprawled dramatically across the couch, a pillow over his face smothering his rage.

“I can’t believe this,” he groaned, voice muffled by cotton. “Out of everyone- me? Do I not have better shit to do?”

From the nearby armchair, Sunoo didn’t even look up from his book. “You don’t.”

Riki sat up, tossing the pillow aside. “I do! I’ve got- training, and drills, and gun maintenance, and- ”

Sunoo raised a brow. “You’re literally describing the same things you’re going to do with her.”

“That’s not the point,” Riki snapped. “She’s… cocky.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but she’s got that rich-girl-doesn’t-care-if-she-gets-shot kind of cocky. Like, daddy will save me.” He gestured wildly in the air, mimicking her expression. “Hi, I don’t need to know basic defense because my last name is enough to keep me alive.”

“I don’t think she’s being forced into this,” Sunoo finally looked up, closing his book with a soft thud. “Plus, Andrei asked for it.”

“Which means I can’t say no.”

“Exactly,” Sunoo echoed, now getting up and walking to the kitchen for water. “He asks, we deliver. That’s the rule, remember?”

IV

Riki’s gym took up the entire basement- what was once a dull, unused space had been gutted, repainted, and reborn into his own haven of physical exercise and mastery of weapons. A boxing ring sat squarely at the center, its ropes frayed at the edges from constant use. The walls were painted in sharp hues of grey, yellow, and red, giving the otherwise white canvas a burst of aggression and focus. Weights lined one wall, punching bags hung like silent spectators, the floor smelled faintly of sweat and disinfectant- Riki kept it immaculate.

Y/N showed up right on time. Not too early, not fashionably late- just on the dot, like she was setting a tone.

She stepped in wearing black leggings and a fitted top, her hair tied into a high ponytail that didn’t dare move. She had a bounce in her step, like this was just another challenge she was confident she’d charm her way through.

“Morning,” she said brightly, offering a slight smile as she looked around. “Nice place. Didn't think you'd be the aesthetic type.”

Riki didn’t respond. He stood near the edge of the ring, arms crossed over his chest, face more unreadable with his bleached brows and hair. His silence was louder than any greeting.

“Warm up,” he said flatly.

Y/N’s smile faltered for half a second. “Not a talker- got it.”

She nodded and dropped her bag to the floor, stepping to the side to begin her stretching routine. Her movements were fluid- familiar, well-practiced. Riki watched without expression, eyes calculating, taking mental notes.

After a minute, her voice cut through the tension.

“So… what are we doing today?” Her cocky edge had returned, laced with curiosity. “You gonna show me how to throw knives or something?”

Riki’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not starting anything today,” he said. “Only exercise.”

Y/N groaned slightly, tipping her head back with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, how boring.”

“Then leave,” Riki said, deadpan.

She blinked. He didn’t flinch.

She huffed a breath of laughter, amused and annoyed all at once. “Wow. Okay. Tough crowd.”

He turned away and started setting a timer. “Five sets of jump squats, thirty seconds rest. Let’s see if the mafia princess can even survive a warm-up.”

Y/N paused mid-squat, eyes narrowing. “I’m not a mafia princess.”

Riki didn’t even glance up from the timer. “Then what?” He continued flatly. “Daddy’s princess?”

The words struck harder than she expected- mocking, cold, dismissive.

Her smirk vanished. “You don’t even know me,” she snapped, standing upright.

He finally looked up, arms crossed. “Don’t need to. I’ve seen your kind before.”

Her eyes flared. “My kind?”

“Entitled. Spoiled. Think they can smile their way out of hard work.”

Y/N stepped closer, jaw tight. “You think I was forced into this?”

Riki shrugged. “You’ll still be here tomorrow. That’s all that matters.”

She stared at him, furious. Then turned away, biting down the urge to argue more. She grabbed her water bottle with a little too much force, taking a sharp breath.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, just loud enough. “Cocky, emotionally constipated, knife boy.”

Riki heard- but didn’t flinch. He just hit start on the timer. “Set two. Let’s go, princess.”

V

Y/N wasn’t spoiled. Not in the way people liked to assume.

Her father had raised her with discipline, values, and a sharp tongue that could hold its own in any room. At least- that’s what she liked to believe. Still, more than once, people had told her she had an attitude. It came up in passing, always laced with a laugh- too sharp, too smug, too sure of herself. But she never saw a reason to correct it.

Because the truth was- her life didn’t demand humility.

Y/N lived a life most people could only dream of. As the daughter of Andrei- the most feared and respected man in the country’s criminal underworld- she existed in a world built on power, wealth, and silence. She had bodyguards before she had braces, chauffeurs before she had a license. Wherever she went, her name traveled ahead of her, clearing the way like a blade through water. Her father’s influence wrapped around her like armor, and for most of her life, it had been enough. No one touched her- no one even dared. She had money, freedom, and the kind of unspoken reverence that followed her even when she wasn’t trying to be noticed. On the surface, it was the perfect life.

But it wasn’t bulletproof.

The night everything changed hadn’t felt like anything at all- just another quiet evening. She had come home from her university class, tossed her bag on the floor, washed her face, and climbed into bed like it was any other day. That’s when the alarms started- piercing, shrill, flashing red lights flooding the hallway. The sound of bodies moving-heavy boots, drawn weapons, the bark of commands. And then a struggle- quick, brutal, over in seconds. By the time she opened her bedroom door, it was done. The intruder had been tackled just outside the side entrance, barely a few meters from where she slept. If the bodyguards had been a minute slower, he might’ve reached her.

For the first time, Andrei had seen the crack in the foundation. He watched the security footage in silence, a lit pipe resting between his fingers, smoke curling like ghosts around his face. What scared Y/N the most wasn’t his anger- it was how calm he was- the way he stood in her doorway that night, long after the incident, just watching her sleep like he was mourning something he hadn’t lost.

The next morning, he gave the order.

She needed to learn to protect herself.

And that was where Riki came in.

Riki wasn’t just another bodyguard or soldier. He was the sharpest weapon in Jay’s arsenal, someone who had risen quickly through the ranks not by legacy, but by discipline and deadly precision. Everyone knew what he was capable of- knife work, close combat, firearms- he mastered everything. Young, powerful, and ruthless, Riki never flinched.

He didn’t care that Y/N was Andrei’s daughter. In fact, that was exactly why Andrei chose him. Riki wasn’t there to entertain her, pamper her, or protect her ego. He was there to mold her into someone dangerous- someone who didn’t flinch in the face of a gun, someone who would never need saving.

Y/N had agreed, not out of fear, but out of pride. She wanted to prove she was more than just her father’s name, more than just the girl at the end of the table during dinners, more than someone who was almost kidnapped. But what she didn’t expect- what no one warned her about- was just how much Riki would make her earn it.

Training with Riki wasn’t the kind of physical exhaustion Y/N had braced herself for. There were no bruises blooming beneath her skin, no split lips or dramatic battle scars- at least, not yet. What truly drained her, what left her feeling heavy and hollow by the end of each day, was the sheer mental weight of it all. It was the relentless stillness in his voice, the clinical precision of his words, the way he never praised, never acknowledged, never gave her even a sliver of satisfaction.

The first day had broken something in her, though she would’ve rather chewed glass than admit it. Despite the bravado she carried in with her- head held high, eyes challenging- she returned home that evening in silence. Her father had waited at the dinner table, an untouched plate in front of him, and though he didn’t say anything when she walked past, he noticed. She didn’t eat. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at him.

And yet, the next day, she was back.

She arrived early, hair tied tight, expression sharper than it had been the day before, as if she had stitched her pride back together just enough to stand. But Riki didn’t reward her silent resilience. He barely even looked at her as he tossed her the rope and told her to warm up. What followed was a repeat of the day prior- stretches, conditioning drills, plank holds, wall sits, core exercises until her body trembled under the pressure- but the part that wore her down the most was the repetition, the lack of progress, the dull, numbing sameness. Occasionally, if she was lucky or if he was particularly generous, he let her use the dumbbells under strict time and form limitations. That was the extent of variation. There was no celebration when she did something right, no adjustment when she struggled. Just the same three words, muttered without a glance- “Again. Fix it.”

And, of course, the nickname. Always the nickname.

“Princess,” he’d say, dragging it out just enough to make her feel it, like he was driving the knife in slowly- just to watch her bleed frustration. She hated it because it undermined her effort, and because it reminded her of everything she’d been trying to escape.

And Riki didn’t care.

“If you’re so annoyed,” he said casually one afternoon, watching her mid-set as sweat dripped down the side of her face, “the door’s right there.”

She didn’t answer. - ust rolled her eyes and kept holding the plank until her arms trembled.

That was the day Jocelyn had walked in- unannounced, a breath of fresh air in soft curls and a denim jacket, smiling like she didn’t know the room was emotionally on fire. Her warmth was instant, her presence oddly disarming. She slipped beside Y/N and offered a small nod, like they’d been friends forever.

“Come on,” she said gently. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Two bodyguards trailed them the entire time- like shadows glued to café glass and pastel menus. The café was cozy, too cozy to house the kind of lives they lived. The juxtaposition made Y/N laugh- really laugh for the first time in days.

Jocelyn quickly became her escape. When Riki pushed too hard, when her self-worth started cracking under his silence, Jocelyn would swoop in- text her out, drag her to a bookstore, slip her snacks under the table. She’d call Riki out to his face, too- never scared, never subtle.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” Jocelyn had snapped at him once, right after he corrected Y/N’s stance for the fifth time in one session. “She’s trying. You could try not to be a robot.”

But Riki didn’t change. If anything, he seemed to double down. The more he realized he could get away with it- the more it became clear that Andrei was firmly on his side- he pushed harder. Andrei never scolded him, never told him to ease up- he trusted Riki’s judgment. Which, to Riki, was permission to keep jabbing.

And so he did.

With every flat remark. With every eye roll. With every “princess.”

Because the truth was- Riki had already decided what Y/N was. And no matter how many days she showed up, she hadn’t proved him wrong yet.

VI

“I’m gonna teach you how to use a knife today.”

The words landed in the air like a stone dropped in still water- sudden, sharp, sending silent ripples through everything.

Y/N froze halfway through tying her ponytail, the elastic still looped between her fingers. For a second, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned her head slowly, brows furrowed, expecting some kind of follow-up- maybe a correction, a deadpan jab, the usual eye roll that came with his sarcasm.

But Riki was serious.

He stood near the storage rack, sleeves pushed up, eyes cool and unreadable, and beside him, laid out on a clean white cloth, was a single black-handled blade- sharp, deadly.

Y/N let the elastic snap into place and approached, the echo of her sneakers soft against the gym floor. “You’re not just trying to scare me off?”

Riki didn’t blink. “If I wanted you gone, I’d just stop showing up.”

He picked up the knife with ease- one could tell his familiarity with it with a simple glance. The blade gleamed under the basement lights, catching a thin sliver of gold in its curve before he held it out, handle first. “Take it.”

Y/N reached for it without hesitation, fingers curling around the grip. It was heavier than she expected- not impossibly so, but enough to remind her that this wasn’t a movie, and this wasn’t pretend.

“You’re not gonna say I haven’t earned it yet?” She asked, glancing up at him with a flicker of something close to a smirk.

Riki’s expression didn’t shift. “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be holding it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable for once. It felt like a new weight settling into the room, a shift in dynamic- small, but undeniable. For the first time in weeks, Y/N didn’t feel like she was being tolerated. She felt like she was being tested.

He stepped behind her, adjusting her grip slightly, guiding her fingers with deliberate precision. His hands were steady, clinical, devoid of any softness. “You don’t hold it like you’re scared of it,” he said. “You hold it like it belongs to you. Because if you ever need to use it, hesitation will get you killed.”

Y/N nodded once..

“What are we starting with?” She asked.

“Targeting. Center mass. Arterial strikes. The basics.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, just light stuff.”

Riki stepped back, the faintest hint of something in his eyes- approval, maybe, though he’d never say it aloud. “You want me to sugarcoat it, or teach you how to survive?”

“I’m not here to be babied,” she said.

“Good,” he replied. “Because I don’t do that.”

VII

It was one of those rare evenings where the entire house sat down for dinner together- something that only ever happened under Jocelyn’s unrelenting insistence. She called them “non-negotiable trust exercises,” claiming that shared meals were sacred, that they built familiarity, dissolved tension, and reminded them all they weren’t just soldiers, or heirs, or enforcers- they were still, somewhere beneath the chaos, a family.

It had happened so often by now that no one protested anymore. In fact, though none of them would dare admit it- especially not Jay- they had started looking forward to it.

The dining table stretched wide, dressed in warm food and soft candlelight, laughter crackling occasionally between bites and side glances. For a few moments, the world outside faded- the rival families, the tension in their bones, the training regimens, the name Andrei looming over their choices. For a few moments, they were just people.

Between bites of roasted vegetables and low conversation, Jay- leaning back with his wine glass in hand- glanced toward Riki without much ceremony. “How’s training going with Y/N?”

Before Riki could even lift his head, Jocelyn cut in, spearing a piece of chicken with far too much enthusiasm. “I think she hates us,” she said, voice cheery in the way only someone trying to stir trouble on purpose could manage. “Riki treats her like absolute shit.”

The table fell dead silent.

Forks hovered halfway to mouths, spoons paused mid-scoop, and everyone’s breath collectively stilled, like the room itself had flinched. All eyes swung toward Riki at once- Heeseung, Sunghoon, Jake, Jungwon, Sunoo- each of them caught somewhere between horror and fascination. It was like someone had pulled the pin on a grenade and dropped it gently in the soup bowl.

Riki leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, gaze level and expression unreadable, like none of this concerned him in the slightest.

Riki would never admit it aloud- certainly not here- but there was a reason he treated Y/N the way he did, a reason that wasn’t about her at all. It was about the fear her father instilled in all of them- the kind of fear that wasn’t loud or threatening, but quiet and suffocating, like a wire pulled tight around the throat. He didn’t like seeing his Hyungs afraid, didn’t like watching the power shift in a room the second Andrei was mentioned. And whether it was misplaced rebellion or something tangled in the growing pains of teenage pride, Riki’s way of pushing back was through her. Through the one person Andrei had made them all silently swear to protect.

It wasn’t fair. Jocelyn told him that- often and bluntly. And still, he didn’t stop.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Jungwon asked from the far end, his tone more serious than usual.

Jocelyn raised her brows, leaning into the storm she had brewed. “Guys. I feel like you overestimate Andrei. I know he’s… intense, but he thinks of us as family. He trusts us. He trusts Riki.”

“Do you think he’ll still think that,” Heeseung muttered darkly, “when he finds out we’ve been letting his daughter get bullied by this little shit?”

“He hasn’t yet,” Riki said, finally breaking his silence, his tone steady but low. “And he knows how I’ve been training her. I’ve reported everything. He hasn’t said a word about it.”

Jay set his wine glass down, a soft click punctuating the space between them. His eyes were fixed on Riki now- sharp, calculating, protective. “You better not take it too far,” he said, voice cold and quiet in a way that made everyone feel it.

Meanwhile, back in her room, Y/N was face-down on her bed, her arms splayed out and her face half-buried in her pillows like she could physically smother the thoughts racing through her head.

She hated that she was thinking about him.

She really hated that she was thinking about the way his chest had pressed lightly against her back that afternoon- how his voice had lowered, just slightly, as he corrected her stance, one hand firm around her wrist, the other hovering near her waist. There had been nothing flirtatious in it, nothing even remotely intentional. And yet, she felt it- his breath at her neck, his hand steady and warm, the way his hair brushed across her cheek when he leaned too close.

For the first time, he’d treated her like someone who belonged.

Not like a task. Not like a child. Like someone capable of learning. Like someone seen.

And it had wrecked her.

This was not supposed to happen. He was rude, arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and worst of all- barely even looked at her like a person before this week. But the moment he had, the moment he shifted even slightly, her feelings had unraveled.

Riki was the first person to treat her like she had to earn her space.

And God help her, she wanted to- for reasons she didn’t understand yet.

Training sessions with the knife continued that way.

They weren’t rushed, not by any means. Riki moved with measured precision, always focused, always professional. Each lesson built on the last that slowly, inevitably carved her into someone sharper- just like Andrei wanted. And through it all, Riki was there, correcting her grip with a firm hand around her fingers, steadying her hips when her balance faltered, tilting her elbow just slightly to improve her range. His touch was never inappropriate, never lingering- but it was there, constant and unavoidable.

And that was the problem. It wasn’t supposed to matter. But it did.

Because every time he stepped in behind her, hands brushing her arms to guide a motion, or his chest ghosting too close to her back, she became aware- not just of him, but of herself; of how small she felt next to him, how easily he could move her body like it was a piece of a larger machine, how focused he was on the technique and how hard it was for her to stay focused on anything else. She’d nod, she'd respond, she'd keep her stance- because she wasn’t weak- but inside, it drove her mad.

And that was its own kind of addiction.

Eventually, the knife training evolved.

One afternoon, he led her toward the dartboard nailed to the far corner of the gym wall, the sleek, black-and-red target lit under a harsh spotlight. “Congrats, you’re graduating to darts,” he said plainly, handing her a set of matte steel-tipped ones. “Practice for using the gun later. This’ll train your hand-eye control without needing a trigger.”

She wanted to ask why now, but didn’t. She knew better than to ask for praise from him.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was how suddenly his touch disappeared.

No more hands adjusting her wrists. No more shoulders pressed lightly behind her as he corrected posture. No more hovering presence that reminded her she was being watched, guided- trained.

Now, he stood on the other side of the gym, arms crossed, occasionally nodding when she landed a clean shot, occasionally correcting her form with nothing but a sharp word. It was colder, it was emptier- and for reasons she wasn’t ready to unpack, she hated it more than she could admit.

She’d gotten used to him. Not just his methods, but him- the way his presence filled the room like smoke- quiet but consuming. It was the way his voice cut through her overthinking, the way he only touched her when it mattered.

Now, she was left standing there, throwing darts into silence, craving something she couldn’t name without sounding stupid.

A few days later, over a late lunch, Jocelyn asked casually. “Is Riki still being an asshole to you?”

Y/N paused mid-sip of her iced coffee, then exhaled through her nose with a shrug. “I guess it’s the same,” she said flatly. “Yeah. He’s making me play darts now.”

It sounded so mundane when said out loud- darts. As if the word didn’t come weighted with hours of silent precision, as if it wasn’t now tangled with every complicated thought she’d refused to unpack since he started keeping his distance.

Jocelyn didn’t press her. She didn’t raise a brow or tilt her head in curiosity. She just nodded, like that answer was good enough- like of course it made sense.

And that’s when it hit Y/N- despite the annoyance Riki seemed to bring everyone- the insults, the eye rolls, the walls he built taller than most people could see over- they trusted him without question, without explanation. They followed his lead in a fight, deferred to his methods in training, and even Jay, the man who outranked him, never challenged the way Riki handled her.

They trusted that Riki would never hurt her. And, against all odds, she was starting to believe that too. Even if she still wanted to slap that deadpan look off his face most days.

VIII

Riki hadn’t meant to bring her to the gun range so soon. In his head, she still needed a few more weeks of drills- more form correction, more footwork, more discipline. He didn’t want to rush her into something she wasn’t ready for. That’s what he kept telling himself.

The truth, though, was simpler- she was getting good. And much faster than he’d expected. There was a sharpness in her, one that didn’t come from brute force or survival instinct. He watched it grow with every session, and the higher it climbed, the more he dug his heels in, refusing to say the one thing that kept biting at the edge of his tongue.

She was better than she should be.

But pride had never been Riki’s strong suit. So instead of telling her, he just texted her the location and time.

Gun range. 5 PM.

When she arrived, he was already there, loading magazines at the back table. The Glock lay in full view, polished, prepped, resting like it was waiting for her. And the second her eyes landed on it, her whole face lit up- wide-eyed, eager, the kind of grin that would’ve made someone else laugh, maybe even tease her. Riki didn’t do either, but he noticed it. And for a split second, the way her excitement filled the room reminded him of something younger- before orders, before violence had become muscle memory.

She looked at the gun like a child being handed a lollipop, and somehow, it didn’t make her look naive.

As she approached, he just nodded and motioned her closer. Then, without any fanfare, he stepped behind her, close enough that his presence could be felt but not overwhelming. His hand settled on her lower back, firm but careful, guiding her toward the right position. When he placed the Glock in her hands, he didn’t ask if she was nervous- he simply adjusted her fingers around the grip with the same precision he’d applied to every lesson before.

His chest brushed lightly against her back as he corrected her arms, lining her up with the target. One hand slid to her waist to adjust her balance; the other repositioned her wrist, steadying her elbow like she was an extension of his own movement.

“Breathe through your stomach,” he said quietly. “Not your chest.”

She didn’t respond, but he felt her body shift, her breathing grow deeper, slower. She was focused- more than he’d seen her yet.

When the shot rang out, it echoed clean through the chamber.

Dead center.

He blinked at the target, then at her. She hadn’t even flinched.

It was a better first shot than he’d ever pulled off.

For a second, he stayed behind her, watching the slight tremble in her arm settle, watching the way she held the weapon like it belonged to her. There was something tightening in his chest- something like respect, with edges he didn’t know how to name.

He stepped away before it could settle too deeply.

“Not bad, princess,” he said, flat as ever.

But he knew- and she knew he knew- that it was more than that.

And somehow, that made things even more complicated.

Later that night, when the house had settled into silence and the world outside had finally stopped demanding things of him, Riki sat alone in his room- lights off, window cracked open, the faint sounds of the city humming in the distance like a lullaby that didn’t quite land.

He had a habit of keeping things minimal. His room reflected that- clean, sparse, practical. A bed, a desk, a shelf lined with weapons he never bragged about, a set of notebooks he never let anyone read. Even the air felt sharpened by discipline, like nothing stayed unless it earned its place.

Tonight, though, his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. He leaned back in his chair, head tilted slightly against the wall behind him, eyes fixed somewhere in the dark. His body ached faintly from his own training, but that wasn’t what bothered him. It was her- Y/N. Not just her smile at the range, not just her aim. Her.

The way she stood a little taller these days. The way her jokes landed more confidently. The way she stared straight back at him when he criticized her, like she was daring him to look deeper and find something worth saying.

She’d started to take up space. Not in a loud, attention-seeking way, not like the girls he’d known before, who wanted to be admired or envied. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone- not even her father. Especially not him. And maybe that was what gnawed at him most.

She wanted this- the training.

And he hated that it made him care.

Because he’d promised himself long ago he wouldn’t get involved. Not with people who could be used against him. Not with people tied to bigger names, bigger consequences. And especially not with someone like her- someone who carried Andrei’s legacy like a blade pressed to the throat of every man in this house.

But still… when she shot dead center today, her posture steady, her eyes locked on the target like it was personal, he hadn’t seen Andrei’s daughter. He’d seen Y/N, who she’d been begging him to see, and that was dangerous. Because if he was honest with himself- and he rarely was- he didn’t know if he was more afraid of hurting her… or protecting her.

Both felt like weakness.

IX

By now, she’d memorized the sound of his voice when he called her princess. The first time he said it, it had dripped with condescension- like she was an intruder in a space built by blood and sweat, a spoiled girl playing pretend with knives. But lately, it hadn’t sounded like an insult anymore.

Riki still said it like it was muscle memory, like he didn’t even think about it. But Y/N could feel it in the air each time the word left his mouth. It no longer struck like a bullet- it brushed against her like a whisper, warm and low and maddeningly familiar.

She told herself she didn’t care- but it was starting to ruin her.

Today, when she walked into the gym, he didn’t even look up. He was standing near the far wall, hands wrapped in tape, posture loose but ready- like always. The only acknowledgment she got was a single nod and the flick of his eyes down to the knife laid out for her.

“Back to blades?” She asked, dropping her bag near the corner, pulling her hair up without waiting for a reply.

“You still hold it like you’re scared of it,” he muttered, finally tossing her a dull training knife. “You want a gun, earn it.”

She caught the knife and rolled her eyes. “I did earn it.”

“You earned a lesson. Not the weapon.”

Y/N bit down her response. It was always like this- every compliment is buried under sharp edges. Every ounce of progress ignored- or worse, acknowledged in silence. Still, she stayed. Still, she showed up every time. And he knew she would.

The drills began- swift, methodical, exhausting in their repetition. Riki moved around her like a shadow, close enough to guide her, never close enough to feel safe. He adjusted her posture with two fingers on her back, fixed her grip with the curve of his palm against hers. Every brush of contact lit a fuse in her chest- short, sharp, breathless.

She hated how much her body noticed him now. The way he stood behind her to correct her stance, tall and composed, warmth bleeding through his shirt as he aligned her movements to his. The way his voice dipped lower when she was doing something right. The way he never admitted it out loud, but kept letting her go further anyway.

“You’re hesitating,” he said once, when she faltered mid-block.

“I’m not,” she whispered back, heart racing.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, unflinching. “Prove it.”

She didn’t look away- not this time.

Their next drill was closer in contact- something that would’ve flustered her a month ago. Now, it just made her aware of everything. The shape of his jaw, the slight hitch in his breath when she got the move right, the way his fingers lingered a beat too long on her waist when he stopped her momentum.

And when they broke apart, she missed his touch so sharply it almost made her stumble.

They didn’t speak of it. Neither of them mentioned the way the room suddenly felt hotter, or how time seemed to slow every time he looked at her. But it was there- it was in the silence.

It was in the way he handed her the blade before their final set and said, quietly, “ready, princess?”

The word settled on her like a secret. Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t even bring herself to smirk. She just nodded, eyes locked on his, pulse wild under her skin.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m ready.”

X

It was a routine afternoon when Jay showed up.

Training was supposed to be just the two of them- like always. Y/N had walked in ready, hair tied back, tank top clinging to her skin from the heat, that same practiced neutrality on her face that she tried to wear like armor around him. Riki had almost forgotten what it felt like to train anyone else. She took up so much space now, even when she was silent.

But then Jay strolled in, leaning casually against the gym doorway with his arms crossed and that signature unreadable expression that meant he was watching more than he let on.

“Don’t mind me,” Jay said, tone light but eyes sharp. “Just felt like watching for a change.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest. Y/N just nodded stiffly, shooting a glance at Riki that felt almost nervous.

The drills started. Knife work first, then light sparring, then stance correction. It all felt routine- except it wasn’t. Not with Jay’s eyes following every movement, not when Riki noticed the way Y/N’s composure faltered just a little more under observation; the way she smiled when Riki rolled his eyes at her, the way her laugh came out softer, quicker, like she didn’t mean for it to slip.

And Jay saw all of it.

He saw the way Riki’s hands hovered just a little longer on her waist when he corrected her balance, the way Riki’s jaw clenched every time she touched him and didn’t notice it. And the way he looked at her- God, how he looked at her.

Jay knew that look. It was the same look Jake used to give Jocelyn when Jay was a protective nutjob all those years ago. He himself had worn it before, years ago, with someone he couldn’t have.

When the session ended, Y/N grabbed her water bottle, barely glanced at them as she walked out- too flustered, too warm, too aware of whatever it was that lived in the air now. She gave Jay a quick, awkward wave. “See you later.”

He waited until she was gone, until her footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Then he turned to Riki. “So,” Jay said, voice flat now, arms still crossed, “you wanna tell me what that was?”

Riki didn’t even look up from where he was putting the blades away. “What was what?”

Jay scoffed. “Don’t play stupid. That tension? I could cut it with one of those knives you keep throwing at her.”

Riki shut the drawer with a little too much force. “Training. That’s all.”

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you’re looking too hard, Hyung.”

Jay stepped forward, voice still calm but edged now. “She’s Andrei’s daughter, Riki.”

That made Riki freeze- just a second too long.

Jay noticed.

“I know,” Riki muttered, voice lower now, the defensiveness creeping in despite him trying to keep it steady. “I haven’t done anything. Nothing’s happening.”

“Maybe not yet,” Jay said. “But don’t act like you’re not halfway there.”

Riki turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. His usual cool exterior was cracking- not completely, but enough to reveal the mess beneath. “She’s a trainee.”

“She’s not just a trainee,” Jay shot back. “And you know it,” Jay sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t get to mess this up. Not with her. Not with him watching us like hawks. If he even thinks you’ve crossed a line-”

“I haven’t,” Riki cut in sharply. “I won’t.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You can lie to me. But don’t lie to yourself,” he turned to leave but paused at the door. “Figure it out, Riki. Before someone else does,” and then he was gone, leaving Riki standing in the center of the gym, the silence ringing louder than any gunshot he’d ever fired.

Because deep down, beneath all the denial, beneath all the bravado, he already had crossed a line. He just didn’t know what to do with the part of him that didn’t want to go back.

XI

The air in the basement gym felt different that evening. Maybe it was the heat from the sparring mats or the hum of the overhead lights, or maybe it was something else- something that had been building quietly between them, day after day, in every unspoken word and every touch that lingered longer than it should’ve.

Y/N showed up a few minutes early, her water bottle still half-full from earlier that afternoon, strands of hair already sticking to her temple despite the shower she’d just taken. She found Riki already at the far end of the gym, shirt clinging to his back, sweat running down the curve of his neck, gloves hitting the punching bag in practiced, rhythmic bursts.

When he saw her, it was the same thing every time- that pause, that fraction of a second where the air seemed to thicken around them before he blinked, nodded, and turned away like nothing in his chest had tightened.

She set her bag down, smoothing her hands over her leggings. “I forgot my gloves,” she said, not expecting sympathy.

“You can go bare,” he muttered, not looking up. “It’ll toughen your hands.”

“Tough love again?”

“No. Just love.”

The words slipped out too quickly- too quiet, too smooth- and for a second, neither of them moved. But then he rolled his shoulder and stepped toward the corner of the room where the throwing knives were stored. “Get ready,” he said, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

But it had. She could feel it in her spine.

They went through warm-ups without speaking, but the silence wasn’t comfortable the way it used to be. It buzzed now, full of static. Every time she glanced at him, his eyes were already on her- watchful, unreadable, and far too soft for someone who used to cut her down with every word.

Then, without warning, he said, “We’re not doing blades today.”

She paused. “No?”

“No,” he replied, tossing a small black case onto the mat in front of her. “We’re doing this.”

Y/N crouched down, flipping open the case. Inside sat a matte black Glock 19. Her breath caught a little in her throat, not because of fear, but because this was it- this was the next step, the one she’d been waiting for without even realizing it.

“Seriously?” She asked, glancing up at him. “You're letting me fire this now?”

“You’re ready,” Riki said, already crossing the room toward the private firing range that had been installed in the far end of the basement. She wondered why he took her to a shooting range the last time. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She followed him with a quiet sense of awe, like a child being handed a key to a secret world. The thrill wasn’t just from the weapon- it was the way he trusted her with it. It meant he trusted her.

Inside the range, everything felt quieter, more closed-in. The walls were padded, the air cooler. He handed her protective earmuffs and adjusted her stance from behind, like always. But this time, when his hands came to rest on her wrists, she didn’t flinch. And he didn’t pull away.

“Grip tighter,” he murmured, voice brushing her neck with warmth. “Looser in the shoulders. You’re too stiff.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“You’re close.”

“I have to be.”

His breath was at her jaw now, and she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back, the firm press of his hands guiding hers toward the target. Every part of her was lit up, heart racing, skin alive with sensation that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’ve done this before,” he said softly.

“Not like this.”

Something about her voice made him freeze- ust for a second, just long enough.

She turned her head slightly, only to find that his face was closer than she expected- barely a few inches away. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, the faintest shadow of stubble at his jaw, the tension carved into his mouth.

He didn’t move. Neither of them did.

And for the first time, she leaned forward first. Only a fraction, only enough to feel the whisper of his breath across her lips.

But then, just before the space between them disappeared entirely- he stepped back. Not far, just enough to break the moment, just enough to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Focus,” he said. “Fire.”

And somehow, she did.

XII

It was late- one of those hushed, heavy nights where the house was still, and even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.

Riki had been pacing for twenty minutes before he finally gave in and knocked on Jake’s door. Not loudly- just enough to make sure he was awake, just enough that he wouldn’t have time to pretend otherwise.

Jake opened the door half-asleep, shirtless, hair messy, blinking hard against the dim hallway light. “You good?” He asked, voice gravelly.

“I need to talk.”

Jake stared at him for a beat, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Riki entered without a word, dropped onto the edge of the bed, palms rubbing over his face like they could scrub away the chaos in his chest. Jake sat across from him, leaning against the headboard, arms folded, waiting.

It took Riki a full minute to say anything.

“I think I’m fucking up.”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“Y/N,” Riki said quickly, like if he didn’t get it out now, he’d swallow it again and let it rot inside him. “I think-” He stopped, hesitating, then took a breath and tried again. “I know I acted like I hated her. I know I was awful to her at first. But something’s… changing.”

Jake tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

“I can’t focus around her,” Riki muttered, his voice lower now, like he didn’t want the walls to hear. “I’ll be mid-sentence and forget what I’m saying. I touch her waist to adjust her stance and my heart’s fucking racing. It wasn’t like this before. I feel like I’m slipping.”

Jake gave a small, knowing smile. “You like her.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.”

Riki let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Jay told you?”

“He told me what he saw in one of your sessions,” Jake said. “Said he’s never seen you look at anyone like that. Said she looked at you the same way back.”

“She can’t,” Riki said, shaking his head.

“And you can’t either. But look where we are.”

Riki looked away, jaw tight with shame and conflict. He wasn’t the type to let himself feel things. But this- whatever this was- had come in through the cracks before he even realized he’d left the door open.

Jake’s voice was gentler now. “How do you think Jocelyn and I even started?” Jake said, shrugging slightly. “It was innocent touches, glances we didn’t mean to hold. Eventually, I kissed her. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t stop myself anymore. And it worked out. Took time, sure. But it worked out.”

Riki didn’t speak, his fingers curling into the blanket beside him.

Jake leaned forward slightly. “This could work out too.”

Riki’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “She’s Andrei’s daughter,” he didn’t need to say more. That fact alone carried the weight of a thousand consequences and confessions.

But Jake didn’t mock him. “And Jocelyn is Jay’s sister. And I’m still alive,” he added with a half-smile. “But I made it through. Look, I know we’re all scared of Andrei. I don’t think that’s ever going away. But I also know one thing for sure- if his daughter wants something, she gets it.”

Riki looked up, uncertain. “You think she’d ask for me?”

Jake’s smile deepened, kind but knowing. “She will ask for you.”

And for the first time in days, Riki didn’t argue. He just stared down at his hands, the ones that had trained her, steadied her, touched her more times than he could count and wondered what the hell he’d do if she ever asked.

XIII

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how to ask for Riki.

He wasn’t some luxury commodity behind glass, not someone she could simply claim or corner. And yet… she wanted him- really badly. Enough that it settled into her bloodstream and made her skin prickle with awareness every time he stood too close or looked at her a second too long.

It was past the point of being a crush. Middle school infatuations didn’t keep you up at night. They didn’t make you forget how to speak, didn’t ruin your appetite, didn’t lodge themselves into your chest until every beat sounded like his name.

For all the hours they’d spent together in the gym, wrapped in silences and glances that came too close, she barely knew anything real about him. The story she pieced together came through fragments- things she’d overheard from guards lingering too long by the kitchen, from maids who whispered between rooms when they thought no one was listening.

They said Riki’s parents had done something- something unforgivable. Something that got him pulled into this world of bullets and blood before he was old enough to decide for himself.

She didn’t ask him. Not because she didn’t want to know- but because she could feel that line between them, the one drawn in silence, in pride. He’d tell her when he was ready. Or maybe he never would. And she’d learn to be okay with that.

But she had learned other things. She knew Riki only drank one brand of water- blue label, chilled, never room temperature. She’d seen him throw away a bottle once because it wasn’t cold enough. She knew that he cracked his knuckles before every new round of training- not out of nervousness, but as if his body needed it, a mechanical reset. She knew that when he helped her adjust her form, his fingers always lingered for exactly one second longer than necessary. She knew he always smelled faintly of cedarwood. And she knew, deep in the marrow of her bones, that he wanted her too. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself yet.

The next session started like any other. Riki barely looked at her when she entered. He tossed her a towel, gestured to the mat, and muttered something about drills. But she didn’t hear it. She was too focused on the way his jaw tensed when their shoulders brushed.

The gym was quiet. Only their breath and the scuff of sneakers against mats filled the air. The silence between them had changed again- it wasn’t cold or distant anymore. It was heavy and loaded. Every time they locked eyes, something passed between them- hot and unspoken.

Riki circled her as she moved, his gaze razor-sharp, hands in his pockets like he needed to stop them from reaching out.

“Back straight,” he said. “Left foot back.” She adjusted, slowly- she knew he was watching. “You’re doing that thing again,” he muttered.

“What thing?” She asked, breathless.

“The thing with your eyes. Darting. Like you’re thinking something you shouldn’t.”

She didn’t answer. Her chest rose and fell a little too quickly. His did too.

He stepped closer. “Y/N,” he said quietly. “Are you- ”

“I’m not thinking about anything,” she lied.

“You are.”

Her eyes met his. And something in him snapped. He didn’t speak. He didn’t warn her. He just moved. In one fluid, inevitable motion, Riki closed the distance between them, one hand cupping her jaw, the other wrapping tight around her waist as he pulled her in and kissed her. It wasn’t soft, nor was it polite. It was weeks of tension crashing at once- every stolen glance, every touch that lingered, every insult thrown like a defense mechanism.

His lips were warm, insistent, desperate in the way they claimed her. And she kissed him back like she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, his hair, anything she could hold onto as her world narrowed to the space between their mouths. His breath was shaky against hers, and when he finally pulled back just a few inches, their foreheads still touched.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “This is bad.”

Y/N’s lips curved, slow and sinful. “Feels pretty good to me.”

And he pulled her in again.

They hadn’t heard the footsteps. Too lost in each other, in the heat of lips meeting and breath catching, in the way Riki's hand had slipped beneath the curve of her jaw like he was holding something delicate for the first time in years. The world had narrowed to the sharp thrum of pulse and proximity- until it shattered.

“Hey,” Jay’s voice cut through the air like a slap of cold water, casual but just loud enough to be heard. “There’s someone at the gate who claims to be Y/N’s driver-”

They broke apart instantly.

Riki stepped back so fast he nearly tripped over the sparring mat, one hand dragging through his hair, the other stuffed deep into his pocket as if that would make him look less flushed. Y/N spun away from him, turning toward the nearest table and grabbing her water bottle like it had suddenly become the most important object in the world. Her chest still rose and fell a little too fast, her lips were still tingling.

Jay blinked from the doorway, taking in the sight before him- the wide space between them, the breathlessness, the too-casual way Riki avoided eye contact.

Y/N cleared her throat, too quickly. “Driver?” She repeated, brows furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. He calls me every time he’s on his way.”

Riki’s head snapped up. Jay paused mid-step, the faintest chill sliding into his voice. “That’s… not your driver?”

“No,” Y/N said, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask anyone to come tonight.”

Jay didn’t wait for further explanation. “Let’s go.”

The three of them moved quickly through the hallway- Jay in the lead, Riki silently but tightly flanking Y/N’s side like a shadow, his entire body coiled with tension. Behind them, her two assigned bodyguards followed without a word, guns no doubt already unclipped from their holsters.

Through the glass, under the yellow porch lights, stood a man- clean-shaven, suit pressed to the last crease. He held the composure of someone who wanted to look harmless- too put together, too calm.

Y/N squinted. “I’ve never seen him before.”

That was all Riki needed. He stepped forward first, arm across her instinctively, like it had become second nature now. “Stay behind me.”

Jay glanced sideways, expression steel. “Heeseung,” he called out into the house and he appeared from the stairs. “Get his plates. If he moves, shoot.”

The second guard was already reaching for the knob. He opened the door with a steady hand.

The man outside gave a small bow, smiling politely. “Good evening. I’m here for Miss Y/N-”

“What’s the name of her real driver?” Riki cut in, voice sharp enough to wound.

The man hesitated. His smile twitched.

That was all the confirmation they needed.

In a flash, both guards surged forward, seizing the imposter. He fought harder than expected- he wasn’t just a fake chauffeur, he was trained- but they had him down in under a minute, knee to his back, wrists already bound. Riki didn’t blink as the scene played out in front of him. But his fingers curled into fists.

Y/N, meanwhile, stood silent, breath caught halfway in her chest, wide-eyed and stiff. Her gaze stayed locked on the man now pinned to the ground- just another reminder that her world wasn’t normal, that she couldn’t afford to slip. That being Andrei’s daughter wasn’t just a title- it was a target.

Jay’s voice broke the silence. “That’s the second time someone’s tried to take you in six months.”

Without thinking, Riki reached out- just a touch to her wrist, grounding her. “I’ve got her,” he said quietly, mostly to Jay. “I’ll stay with her.”

Jay looked at him for a long, long moment, questioning the integrity in his voice. Then he nodded.

And for the first time, Y/N didn’t flinch from Riki’s hand- she leaned into it.

XIV

The aftermath of the kidnapping attempt left behind more than shaken breath and rattled nerves- it rewrote the rules completely. The very next morning, without ceremony or explanation, Andrei made a decision. There would be no more training at Jay’s house. No more shared spaces or group dinners or the illusion that Y/N was just another girl among her father’s closest allies.

“She stays at home,” he said into the phone, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “If she trains, he comes to her. End of discussion.”

Within hours, the mats from Riki’s gym were relocated, the gear packed and installed in one of Andrei’s lesser-used spare rooms- a space that had once been decorated in heavy velvet curtains and antique frames, now stripped to its bones and dressed in greys, reds, and pale yellows- Riki’s signature palette. The room felt clinical, impersonal, almost too neat, as if pretending that none of this was complicated, as if hearts weren’t involved.

Y/N was already there when Riki arrived- punctual, poised, dressed down in leggings and a plain black tank, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that sat snugly above her neck. But despite her usual composure, she didn’t feel steady. There was a subtle jitter in the way her hand gripped her water bottle, and something flickered behind her eyes- nerves, sparks, confidence.

Riki didn’t say anything at first. He simply stepped in, set down his bag in the corner, and nodded toward the mat.

“Start warming up,” he said, his tone quiet, unreadable- as usual.

And yet, even from the other end of the room, the weight of everything unsaid settled heavily in the air between them- the echo of their kiss from the day before still lingering like fingerprints on skin. It clung to the space around them, invisible but impossible to ignore.

They started with stretches, the kind of drills that required just enough focus to pretend everything was normal, but not enough to stop them from glancing at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Riki moved stiffly, his usual ease replaced by hesitance, like he was caught between muscle memory and new habits. He guided her through the routine, correcting her posture with the tips of his fingers, letting his hand linger a second too long on the small of her back before catching himself and stepping away.

Y/N noticed, of course she did. And she hated that it made her smile.

Knife drills came next, the same sequences they’d done dozens of times, but now, every touch- every movement of his hand over her wrist, every adjustment of her stance, every moment where his chest brushed lightly against her back as he leaned in to reposition her grip- felt different. It was no longer just training. It was choreography laced with friction, and the steps were starting to blur.

At one point, she turned to face him directly, her eyes a little darker than usual, her voice lower when she said, “You’re distracted.”

Riki met her gaze, brows raised. “You’re not?”

She opened her mouth to answer but didn’t. Because the truth was- she was. She was more than distracted, she was drowning in the gravity of whatever this thing was becoming.

They stood there, staring, the room too quiet, too still.

And then he took a step forward. He didn’t ask, didn’t give her the chance to overthink it. One moment, there was space between them- and the next, there wasn’t. His hand found her face first, fingers curling softly beneath her jaw, tilting her toward him with a tenderness that contrasted everything about how he’d treated her the last few weeks. His thumb brushed lightly across her cheek, like he was learning her face for the first time, like he was memorizing something he didn’t want to forget.

Then he kissed her.

Not out of impulse, not out of frustration, not because the world had stopped- but because he finally understood that he wanted to. Not just the kiss, not just the way she looked at him like he was more than a soldier or a weapon, but her.

He kissed her because there was no more pretending otherwise.

She leaned into it without hesitation, hands sliding up to his chest, anchoring herself in the rhythm of it, letting herself sink into the security of his arms and the warmth of his mouth and the weight of his unspoken confession.

When they finally pulled apart, breath mingling in the sliver of space left between them, neither of them spoke. Her hands still rested lightly against his chest, his fingers still curved gently along her jaw, and though the kiss had ended, neither of them stepped back. The air between them, once charged with tension and uncertainty, had fully softened. It wasn’t awkward, and it wasn’t restrained. It was just them, suspended in the calm that followed, finally giving in and the risk of being together under Andrei’s roof.

And somehow, that made it all the more desired.

XV

They never talked about the kiss. Not the first one, not the second- not any of them. But they happened. Between drills, between breathless rounds of sparring, between the weight of his hand on her lower back and the way she glanced at his mouth when he corrected her stance- they happened, swift and natural, like gravity..

It wasn’t a performance. There was no dramatic build-up, no declarations of want or need- just fleeting moments.

Sometimes, she’d land a clean hit during a knife drill, and the thrill of it would make her grin too wide. And he’d grab her wrist, tug her toward him, and press a kiss to her mouth like it was the most normal thing in the world- congratulating her.

Other times, when she was too tired to finish her reps but refused to quit, he’d stand behind her, hands on her shoulders, grounding her- and she’d turn without thinking, meet him halfway with parted lips and fluttering lashes. And he’d kiss her, slow, like punctuation to a sentence they never dared speak aloud.

They didn’t talk about it because they didn’t have to. Because they both knew- deep in their chests, in their locked eyes, in the way their hands lingered after every touch- that whatever this was, it had already sunk its roots in. And there was no pulling it out now.

But they did talk- about everything else. Between sets and cooldowns, they learned each other in bits and pieces. She told him about the time she failed her driving test three times, and he laughed- actually laughed, rare and unguarded. He told her about his mother’s cooking, how he still missed it sometimes even though she hadn’t made a meal in years. She learned he didn’t like sweet things, hated the sound of sirens, and always tied his right boot tighter than his left. He learned she liked old films and slept with a reading lamp on. They traded stories like offerings- gentle, ordinary confessions in the middle of an extraordinary situation.

Riki knew he was playing a dangerous game. That if Andrei found out, he wouldn’t just vanish, he and his entire family would be incinerated. But that didn’t exactly stop him.

Because when she looked up at him after landing her best shot, cheeks flushed, pride glowing from her collarbones to her temples, he didn’t see a boss’s daughter, he didn’t see risk. He just saw her.

And when she kissed him- quick and secret, breathless and hot between whispered curses- she didn’t see her trainer, or a soldier, or someone who could be gone tomorrow. She saw him.

And so, the kisses continued- secretive, dashing, daring. But soft and vulnerable all wrapped together like a present.

They built a rhythm in those days. A ritual that was half training and half undoing. He’d correct her grip on the gun, his arms enclosing hers- and she’d lean back slightly, as if daring him. He’d press a kiss to her neck when no one was looking. She’d bite back a smile. Sometimes she’d kiss him mid-sentence- interrupting his scolding about footwork with a grin and her mouth on his, just a second, just enough to make him forget his next word.

And it scared him. Because if he didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop at all.

But for now- for these stolen moments, these dangerous little tastes of something forbidden- he let himself fall… just a little.

Because if being near her was a crime, then every kiss was worth the sentence.

XVI

Jocelyn hadn’t meant to catch it. She had only called Y/N for a quick chat- one of their usual midday check-ins, a moment to vent about the guards being too stiff, the tea being too cold, or Jake leaving his socks everywhere. But as they spoke, Jocelyn caught something else entirely. It wasn't in Y/N’s words, but in her tone- the softness that slipped through when she said Riki’s name, the almost-laugh that caught in her throat when she recounted how he’d corrected her grip too firmly, or how he’d teased her over her stance.

He called her princess.

It was a familiar lilt- one Jocelyn recognized with aching precision. She had once sounded like that too. Still did, when she spoke about Jake in those rare, vulnerable moments- that unguarded fondness, the grin behind the words.

Y/N was falling.

Jocelyn could hear it in the quiet between her sentences.

And yet, she didn’t immediately bring it up. For days after the call, she sat with the realization, unsure of what to do with it. She didn’t want to sound the alarm, didn’t want to startle something fragile before it had fully grown into itself. But in the end, she told Jay- not to expose Riki, not to get anyone in trouble- just so that it wouldn’t be a surprise when it inevitably came to light. Because it would- these things always did.

“Go easy on him, Jay,” she said gently after she told him. “He’s honestly still just a kid.”

Jay didn’t respond. He’d just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But she saw the way his jaw tightened, how he exhaled a little too slowly- the way someone did when they were calculating the distance between what they wanted to say and what they knew they had to.

The next afternoon, Riki was folding laundry in his room, half-mumbling to himself about a sock that had disappeared and how the dryer probably ate it. His phone was playing something offbeat in the background, and for a second, it almost looked like peace. Almost.

Jay walked in without knocking, the door creaking open behind him. His presence alone changed the temperature of the room. “We need to talk,” he said, voice low but firm.

Riki turned, confused, arms full of unfolded shirts. “What is it, Hyung?”

Jay shut the door, the sound sharp and final behind him. “Drop the act, you little shit.”

Riki blinked. “What-?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Jay interrupted. His tone wasn’t raised, but it carried weight- that same unsettling calm he’d inherited from their early days, when authority didn’t have to be loud to be terrifying.

Riki stood there, awkward and cornered, the shirt in his hands suddenly feeling much heavier than cotton. “I… I don’t-”

“Don’t play dumb.” Jay stepped forward, slowly. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t know?”

There was a pause. Riki’s mouth opened slightly as if to respond, then closed again. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“I watched you train her,” Jay continued. “I saw the way you looked at her. The way she looked at you. The tension. The way she couldn’t stop smiling, and you-” Jay exhaled through his nose. “You were practically vibrating.”

Riki couldn’t even deny it.

“You kissed her?” Jay asked, eyes narrowed.

After a beat, Riki nodded once.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “That’s it. We’ve kissed. But I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, Hyung. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

Jay sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring hard at the floor as though it would give him the answer he needed. “Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

Riki hesitated, then nodded. “I do. I think about it all the time.”

Jay looked up. “Then why are you still doing it?”

Riki swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can stop,” Jay was quiet. “I know it’s stupid,” Riki went on, his voice breaking with honesty. “I know she’s Andrei’s daughter, I know it could ruin everything. But when I’m with her… it doesn’t feel like that. It’s not about power or danger or names. It’s just… her.”

Jay’s expression shifted- not quite soft, but no longer severe. He studied Riki for a long moment before asking, “Do you love her?”

Riki’s breath hitched- he didn’t answer right away. But that silence was answer enough. “I think I’m starting to,” he said finally.

Jay leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “God, you’re both idiots.”

“I know.”

“I mean it,” Jay added, lips twitching into something close to a smile. “This is dangerous. It’s reckless. It could get us all killed.”

“I know,” Riki repeated. “I’m killed.”

“But,” Jay sighed. “I also know what it’s like to fall for someone when you’re not supposed to. When everything says it’s a bad idea. Well- I don’t. But my sister does.” Jay stood, hands on his hips now. “And yeah, I was angry. But it also gave me everything. I wouldn’t take that back.”

Riki’s eyes softened.

“So,” Jay continued, eyes locking with his, “I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to tell you to end it. But I am going to say this- be smart. Be respectful. Be honest. Don’t treat this like a phase, or a game.”

“I’m not,” Riki said. “I swear.”

Jay nodded slowly. “When the time comes- when Andrei finds out- you won’t face it alone. I’ll stand with you. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A long breath passed between them. The room felt a little lighter, like permanence had shifted beneath the surface.

Riki nodded. “Thank you, Hyung.”