Phil's parents stood by the ambulance as paramedics loaded their son onto a stretcher. His face was pale, his body frail from the ordeal he had endured. Despite his weak protests, his father insisted he go to the hospital.
"You need rest and care," his mother said, brushing his hair back as tears shimmered in her eyes.
Phil sighed but didn't argue. He lacked the energy for it. His father, the deputy, exchanged a few words with the paramedics before the ambulance doors shut. The sirens wailed as it sped toward Auroralis General Hospital.
---
The school halls buzzed with their usual chaos. Maria kept her head low, weaving through the crowded corridors. She had been avoiding Damian since the fallout with Logan. Yet, no matter how hard she tried to keep her distance, Damian found her.
"Maria!"
She froze at the sound of his voice. Turning slowly, she saw him approaching. His usual confident smirk was absent, replaced by something more serious.
"What's going on with you?" Damian demanded, his voice low but firm.
Maria crossed her arms defensively. "Nothing. I'm just busy."
"Don't give me that," Damian said, stepping closer. "You've been dodging me all week. What's wrong?"
Maria hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was eavesdropping. "Logan thinks I told you where Phil was."
Damian's brow furrowed in confusion before his expression darkened. "That son of a bitch," he muttered.
"Damian!" Maria scolded. "Don't call him that."
"Well, what else do you want me to call him?" Damian shot back, his voice rising slightly. "He's always looking for someone to blame, and now it's you?"
Maria sighed. "It's not just that. It's... how did you even know where Phil was? That's what Logan wants to know, and honestly... so do I."
Damian's jaw tightened as he looked away. For a moment, Maria thought he wouldn't answer. But then he exhaled sharply.
"Justin heard them," Damian admitted.
Maria blinked. "What?"
"Justin," Damian said, his voice tinged with frustration. "He overheard Logan and his little group talking about it in the cafeteria. He came running to me."
Maria frowned. "So, you didn't figure it out yourself? Justin just... overheard them?"
Damian nodded. "Yeah. And you know what? I didn't even care about the kid. But Justin kept going on and on about how we could get the money. And, well i have Money problems right now."
Maria's stomach twisted. "You took advantage of it."
Damian shrugged. "Don't act so high and mighty. Like you've never done something you're not proud of."
"That's not the point," Maria snapped. "The point is, now Logan thinks I betrayed them. And I didn't!"
Damian stepped closer, his tone softening. "Look, I didn't ask for this, okay? Justin ran his mouth, and I went with it. That's all there is to it. If Logan wants to play detective, that's his problem, not yours."
Maria shook her head. "It's not that simple, Damian. He trusted me, and now... now he doesn't."
Damian hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Forget about Logan. He's not worth the headache. Let him believe what he wants. You know the truth."
Maria looked up at him, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "And what about you?"
"What about me?" Damian asked.
"Do you know the truth?" Maria pressed.
Damian smirked faintly. "I know enough to know that I didn't screw you over, Maria. Whatever Logan thinks, that's on him."
Maria sighed, stepping back. "I just... I don't know, Damian. I don't know what to believe anymore."
"Then believe this," Damian said firmly. "I've got your back, no matter what. Logan? He'll get over himself. But me? I'm not going anywhere."
Maria didn't respond. Instead, she turned and walked away, leaving Damian standing alone in the hallway.
---
The dim light in the backroom of Rodrigo's bar cast long shadows over the cracked leather chairs. Frank sat at the head of the room, his eyes steady on Arion. Rodrigo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Frank spoke slowly, his words deliberate. "You've got potential, Arion. You're smart, resourceful. I've seen how you've turned Rodrigo's little group into something bigger. Something profitable."
Arion leaned forward, the cigarette in his hand burning low. "What's your point?"
"My point," Frank said, folding his hands on the table, "is that I know what it's like to be the outcast. The black sheep. My brother got the praise, the attention, the inheritance. Me? I had to build my empire from nothing."
Arion's jaw tightened. The words hit too close to home.
Frank's voice softened. "You remind me of myself. That hunger. That need to prove everyone wrong."
Rodrigo chuckled. "He's right, you know. You've been running circles around the competition. Imagine what you could do with Frank's resources."
Arion flicked ash from his cigarette. "And what's the catch?"
Frank's lips curved into a smile. "No catch. Just loyalty. You work with me, you'll have more money than you'll know what to do with. Respect. Power."
Arion hesitated. He glanced at Rodrigo, who gave him a slight nod. Then, with a deep breath, he met Frank's gaze.
"I'm in," Arion said, his voice steady.
Frank extended his hand, and Arion shook it. The deal was sealed.
---
The music from the party echoed faintly through the empty classroom where Damian and Maria found themselves. She leaned against the desk, her eyes locked on his.
"Why do you always have to be so complicated?" Maria asked, her voice a mix of frustration and longing.
Damian stepped closer, his hands resting on either side of her. "Maybe because you make me that way."
Maria rolled her eyes, but the tension between them was undeniable. Damian reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"You're impossible," she muttered.
"And you're irresistible," he countered, his voice low.
Their lips met, the kiss deep and urgent. Damian pulled her closer, his hands exploring her back as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside the classroom faded away, leaving only the heat between them.
Maria gasped as Damian lifted her onto the desk, his kisses trailing down her neck.
"Are you sure?" he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.
Maria nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes."
The moment was electric, raw with emotion and desire. They lost themselves in each other, a connection forged in the chaos of their lives.
---
At the hospital, Phil stirred in his bed, his body weak but his mind racing. Flashes of his time in the tunnel haunted him. The experiments, the strange devices, the cold, clinical voices of his captors.
"They're back," he whispered.
His father leaned in. "What did you say, son?"
Phil's eyes widened. "The Kalosa. They're back."
Nearby, a journalist who had been interviewing Phil's father froze. She scribbled down every word, her mind already racing with ideas for a story.
---
Victor paced the dimly lit office, his expression cold and calculating. "We have a problem," he said into the phone.
On the other end, Ram's voice was steady. "What's the job?"
"A boy named Phil. He's at Auroralis General. He's seen too much."
"And his Father?" Ram asked.
"Collateral damage," Victor said without hesitation. "Make it clean. No loose ends."
---
The hospital was quiet, the hum of machines the only sound in the dimly lit hallways. Ram moved with practiced precision, blending seamlessly into the late-night calm. His surgical scrubs and mask allowed him to pass unnoticed, just another worker finishing a shift.
At the end of the hallway, Room 217 waited. Inside, Phil lay unconscious, his body weak, while the journalist sat by his bedside, scribbling into her notebook.
Ram slipped inside, his movements as silent as a shadow. He closed the door softly behind him, locking it with a quick flick of his wrist.
The journalist looked up, startled. "Who—"
Ram didn't let her finish. With one fluid motion, he stepped behind her, slipping a length of thin wire around her neck. Her hands clawed at the garrote, her notebook clattering to the floor. He held firm, his expression impassive, until her body went limp.
Letting her slide to the floor, he turned his attention to Phil. The boy stirred slightly, a weak moan escaping his lips. Ram moved to the bedside, pulling a syringe from his pocket.
"This isn't personal, kid," he murmured, injecting the clear liquid into Phil's IV line.
Phil's body jerked briefly before settling. The machines beeped steadily for a moment longer before going silent.
Ram wiped down everything he had touched, leaving no trace of his presence. He glanced at the journalist's open notebook, noting the frantic scrawls about the Kalosa. After a moment's consideration, he pocketed it.
Slipping out of the room, he walked calmly through the hospital, his disguise ensuring no one gave him a second glance. By the time the alarms began to sound, he was already gone, melting into the city's shadows.
---
The dilapidated warehouse loomed like a decayed corpse at the edge of Auroralis, surrounded by a sea of rusting metal and broken machinery. Its shattered windows seemed to leer at the pair as they approached under the veil of darkness. The air reeked of oil and rot, a suffocating stench that clung to their clothes.
Rodrigo adjusted his leather gloves, his face a portrait of calm determination. He glanced at Arion, whose sharp jawline was set tight, his eyes darting nervously toward every shadow.
"Relax," Rodrigo murmured, his voice smooth and confident. "First mission jitters are normal. But nerves will get us killed, hermano."
Arion bristled. "I'm not nervous," he snapped, though his trembling hands betrayed him.
Rodrigo chuckled, his gold tooth catching the moonlight. "Keep telling yourself that. Just stay close and follow my lead."
The two crept around the building, careful to avoid the floodlights sweeping the yard. They paused behind a stack of crates as Rodrigo peeked around the corner. Two guards stood at the entrance, smoking and chatting in low voices.
"Idiots," Rodrigo muttered, pulling a knife from his belt. "Stay here."
Before Arion could protest, Rodrigo slinked forward, his movements silent and deliberate. He closed the distance with terrifying speed, his blade flashing once, twice. The guards collapsed soundlessly, their cigarettes rolling across the ground.
Rodrigo waved Arion over. "See? Easy."
Arion swallowed hard, stepping over the bodies as they entered the warehouse. Inside, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood. Rows of cages lined the walls, each holding a human prisoner—eyes hollow, bodies emaciated. The moans of despair echoed in the cavernous space.
"Shit," Arion whispered, his breath hitching. "This is... worse than I imagined."
Rodrigo didn't flinch. "Focus. We're not here to save anyone. Just grab the package and get out."
The "package" was a shipment of drugs hidden among the chaos—a test run for Arion to prove his worth. But as they moved deeper into the warehouse, the weight of what they were witnessing seemed to press down on him.
Rodrigo glanced back, reading the conflict on Arion's face. "You think this is bad? This is just business, kid. Don't get emotional."
"I'm not—" Arion started, but a scream cut him off.
They froze. A woman in one of the cages had spotted them, her skeletal hand reaching through the bars. "Help me!" she rasped, her voice raw and desperate.
Rodrigo shook his head, his tone cold. "Ignore her. We can't save everyone."
Arion hesitated, his fists clenching. The woman's eyes locked onto his, pleading. For a moment, the weight of his family's expectations, Rodrigo's relentless pragmatism, and his own sense of morality collided in his mind.
"Let's go," Rodrigo snapped.
Arion turned away, forcing himself to follow. But her voice haunted him with every step.
At the center of the warehouse, they found the stash: crates filled with sealed packets of powder. Rodrigo began loading a duffel bag with practiced efficiency.
"Grab that one," he ordered, nodding toward a smaller crate.
Arion moved to obey, but as he bent down, a metallic click froze him in place.
"Don't move," a low voice growled.
He turned slowly to see a third guard, his pistol trained on Arion's head. Rodrigo spun, his knife already in his hand.
"Drop it," the guard barked.
Rodrigo smirked. "You sure about that, amigo? Because you're outnumbered."
The guard's grip tightened on the trigger. "Not anymore."
Behind them, the sound of boots echoed—backup was arriving.
Rodrigo cursed under his breath. "Arion, you trust me?"
"What kind of question is that?" Arion hissed.
"Just answer."
"Yes!"
"Then duck."
Arion dropped to the ground as Rodrigo hurled his knife, the blade striking the guard's throat with deadly precision. Blood sprayed as the man fell, his gun firing a single wild shot that ricocheted off a metal beam.
"Move!" Rodrigo barked, grabbing the duffel bag.
They sprinted toward the exit, the sound of shouting and pounding footsteps growing louder behind them. Outside, the floodlights were blinding, and the roar of engines filled the air as trucks began pulling in.
Rodrigo led Arion toward the perimeter, where they had parked a stolen car. But before they could reach it, a burst of gunfire forced them to dive for cover behind a stack of barrels.
"Plan B?" Arion panted.
Rodrigo grinned, pulling a smoke grenade from his jacket. "Always have one."
He tossed the grenade, and thick, choking smoke enveloped the area. Under its cover, they sprinted the remaining distance to the car.
Rodrigo slammed the duffel bag into the backseat before gunning the engine. The tires screeched as they sped away, bullets ricocheting off the trunk.
As the city lights came into view, Arion finally allowed himself to breathe.
"Welcome to the big leagues," Rodrigo said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Arion didn't respond. His mind was still back in the warehouse, with the cages, the woman's pleading eyes, and the body of the guard Rodrigo had killed without hesitation.
Rodrigo noticed his silence and sighed. "Look, I get it. This isn't what you're used to. But if you want to survive in this world, you've got to toughen up. No one's going to hold your hand, least of all me."
Arion stared out the window, his reflection a stranger. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."