Chapter Three: Crossroads of Fire

The morning after their daring rooftop escape, Emilio sat on a cold stone bench at the edge of his family's sprawling estate, staring blankly at the perfectly manicured gardens that stretched before him. The Montemayor compound was a symbol of wealth and power, a fortress hidden behind towering iron gates and patrolled by watchful, armed guards. Lush greenery, pristine marble fountains, and a grand mansion that gleamed under the morning sun painted a picture of paradise to the world outside. But to Emilio, it was suffocating—a gilded cage, ornate yet oppressive, beautiful yet devoid of true freedom.

He rested his elbows on his knees, the weight of his thoughts heavier than the humidity of the morning air. The memory of Angelo's hand in his, the way they had clung to each other under the stars, lingered in his mind like the ghost of a melody he couldn't shake. It was dangerous to dwell on moments like that, but he couldn't help it. For once in his life, he'd felt alive—truly alive—in a way that this hollow existence within these gates could never give him.

"Emilio."

The sound of his name made him turn, startled. His younger sister, Sofia, approached from the gravel path, her steps quiet yet deliberate. At sixteen, Sofia was already far sharper and more perceptive than most people gave her credit for. Her dark eyes held a quiet intelligence that often left adults, including their father, uneasy. She had their mother's fire, their late grandmother's defiance, and a wit that made even Emilio tread carefully in arguments. She was the only one who ever dared to question the authority that ruled their household.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked, not waiting for permission as she plopped onto the bench beside him, smoothing out the folds of her pale blue dress. Her gaze followed his to the horizon, where the treetops swayed gently in the morning breeze.

"You've been quiet lately," Sofia said after a pause, her tone gentle but probing.

Emilio shrugged, leaning back on the bench. "Just thinking."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him with that unnervingly sharp look she was so good at. "About the boy?"

The question hit like a lightning strike, and Emilio stiffened, his hands tightening around the edge of the bench. "What boy?"

Sofia's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "The one you've been sneaking off to meet. Don't bother denying it—I'm not blind."

Emilio exhaled slowly, trying to compose himself. "It's not what you think."

"Then what is it?" she pressed, turning to face him fully now. Her voice was steady but curious, her brows raised just enough to show she wasn't going to let this go easily. "Because whatever it is, it's making you reckless. And if Papa finds out…"

She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't have to. They both knew what their father was capable of.

Emilio looked away, his jaw clenching. "Papa won't find out," he said, though even he wasn't sure he believed that.

Sofia let out a soft scoff. "You're playing with fire, Emilio. You think the guards haven't noticed? That Papa doesn't hear when the staff whisper about you disappearing at odd hours?"

Emilio turned back to her sharply, his voice low and firm. "Sofia, this isn't your concern."

"It is if it puts you in danger," she shot back, her tone suddenly sharper. "Do you have any idea what he'd do if he even suspected something? You know how he is. How he… handles things like this."

A chill settled between them at her words, unspoken memories weighing the air. Their father, Don Felipe Montemayor, was not a man of mercy. He ruled his family with an iron fist, his word law, his punishments swift and cruel. Emilio didn't need to imagine what might happen if his father discovered his secret; he'd seen enough to know it would be devastating.

"Emilio," Sofia said softly after a pause, her voice losing its edge. "Who is he?"

He hesitated, the question catching him off guard. Sofia rarely let her guard down, but the sincerity in her voice, the way she looked at him like she truly wanted to understand, made him falter.

"He's…" Emilio began, but the words caught in his throat. He looked down at his hands, suddenly unsure of what to say. How could he possibly explain Angelo? How could he put into words the fire he felt when they were together, the way Angelo made him feel seen, alive, understood?

"He's someone who… makes me feel like I'm not just some puppet on strings," Emilio finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I'm with him, it's like I can breathe for the first time. Like I can be myself."

Sofia studied him in silence, her expression unreadable. "Does he know?"

Emilio frowned. "Know what?"

"How dangerous this is for both of you," Sofia said quietly. "Because if he doesn't, you need to tell him. If you care about him as much as it sounds like you do, you need to be honest with him about what you're risking."

Emilio nodded slowly, her words sinking in. She was right, of course. Angelo deserved to know the full extent of the danger they were both in. But the thought of telling him, of laying everything bare, terrified him.

"Just… be careful," Sofia said, standing and brushing off her dress. "I don't want to lose you, Emilio. And I don't want you to lose yourself in something that might destroy you."

Emilio looked up at her, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, Sofia."

She nodded, her smirk returning faintly. "Don't thank me yet. You're still an idiot, but you're my idiot."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Emilio alone with his thoughts once more. He stared out at the gardens, his mind racing. Sofia's words echoed in his ears, mingling with the memory of Angelo's laughter, his touch, his smile.

For the first time, the thought occurred to him: could love survive in a world so determined to crush it?

•••

Meanwhile, Across the City

Angelo slipped into the backroom of a dimly lit bar, his heart pounding. The Salazar group's headquarters was an unassuming place—a front for their illicit operations, tucked away in the maze of Manila's alleys.

Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and tension. Angelo could feel the weight of the other men's eyes on him as he approached Tito Salazar, the group's leader.

"You're late," Tito said, his voice low and gravelly. He was a stocky man with a scar running down his cheek, his presence commanding respect—and fear.

"Got held up," Angelo said, keeping his tone even.

Tito studied him for a moment before gesturing to the table. "Sit."

Angelo obeyed, his stomach twisting with unease. He'd been working for the Salazar group long enough to know when something was wrong.

"You've been sloppy," Tito said, lighting a cigarette. "People are talking. They're saying you've been seen with someone from the Montemayor family."

Angelo's blood ran cold. He kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced. Who had seen him with Emilio? How much did they know?

"It's not true," Angelo said, his voice steady. "I wouldn't be that stupid."

Tito exhaled a cloud of smoke, leaning back in his chair. "Good. Because if I find out you're lying…" He didn't finish the threat, but the implication was clear.

Angelo nodded, his fists clenched under the table. He needed to be more careful. For his family's sake, and for his own.

That evening, Emilio found himself wandering the narrow streets of Quiapo. He knew it was reckless, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to see Angelo again, to understand why he felt drawn to someone who should've been his enemy.

He found Angelo sitting on the steps of a crumbling church, staring out at the bustling market below.

"You're brave," Angelo said without looking up as Emilio approached.

"Or stupid," Emilio replied, sitting beside him.

Angelo finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "Why are you here?"

Emilio hesitated, searching for the right words. "I don't know. I just… I can't stop thinking about you."

Angelo blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in Emilio's voice.

"You shouldn't be here," Angelo said after a moment. "If anyone sees us together—"

"I don't care," Emilio interrupted. "Do you?"

Angelo opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of shouting cut him off.

"Salazar's men," Angelo said, his voice tense. "They must've followed me."

Emilio's heart raced. "We have to move."

The two of them took off, weaving through the crowded market as the shouts grew louder. Emilio grabbed Angelo's hand, pulling him into a narrow alley.

"Where are we going?" Angelo asked, breathless.

"Somewhere safe," Emilio said.

They ended up in an abandoned building near the edge of the river. The air inside was damp and musty, but it was quiet.

Angelo leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. "You're insane, you know that?"

"You keep saying that," Emilio said with a faint smile.

Angelo shook his head, but he couldn't help the small laugh that escaped him. "What are we doing, Montemayor?"

"I don't know," Emilio admitted. "But I know I can't walk away from this. From you."

Angelo's laughter faded, replaced by a heaviness in his chest. "This is dangerous," he said softly. "For both of us."

"I know," Emilio said. "But I'm willing to take the risk if you are."

Angelo looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt. But all he saw was determination.

For the first time in years, Angelo allowed himself to hope.

•••

As the days passed, Emilio and Angelo continued to meet in secret, their bond growing stronger with each stolen moment. But the world around them was closing in.

The Montemayor family was preparing for a major deal—a shipment of weapons that would solidify their power in Manila. Emilio was expected to oversee the operation, but his heart wasn't in it.

Meanwhile, the Salazar group was planning their own move—an ambush on the Montemayors. Angelo overheard the plan during a meeting and felt his stomach drop. He knew Emilio would be there.

That night, Angelo slipped away and found Emilio waiting for him by the river.

"We need to talk," Angelo said, his voice urgent.

"What's wrong?" Emilio asked, sensing his unease.

"There's going to be an ambush," Angelo said. "Your family—your people—they're walking into a trap."

Emilio's jaw tightened. "How do you know?"

"Because I'm the one who's supposed to help set it up," Angelo admitted.

Emilio stared at him, torn between anger and disbelief. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I don't want to see you get hurt," Angelo said. "But you have to promise me something—don't fight back. Walk away."

Emilio shook his head. "I can't. If I walk away, they'll kill me. And if I don't, they'll kill you."

The weight of their situation crashed down on them. There was no easy way out, no way to escape the world they were born into.

But as they stood together in the darkness, they made a silent vow. Whatever happened, they would face it together.