He wheeled his bike over, the front wheel wobbling slightly as he pushed it along the uneven pavement. When he reached her, Amara looked at the bike and smirked.
"You came with that? Nice," she said, tapping the handlebars lightly. "Could you give me a lift?"
"Sure. Let's go," he replied, swinging a leg over the seat and settling onto the pedals.
Amara didn't hesitate — she slid onto the small seat behind him, wrapping her arms loosely around his waist for balance. Kael felt his heart hammer against his chest at the sudden contact, but he kept his face calm, focusing hard on the road ahead as he began pedaling.
'Man, this feels kinda nice,' he thought, feeling her warmth against his back.
Amara, meanwhile, sat casually, glancing down at her phone as a buzz vibrated through her pocket. A message lit up the screen — from her boyfriend.
'Oh, almost forgot I had one. Since I've been so focused on this big guy,' she thought with a quiet chuckle, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sent a quick message telling him to come over. She tucked her phone away, her mind already moving on.
After a few minutes, they arrived at the dormitory complex. Kael rolled the bike to a slow stop right outside.
A guy was already standing in front of the entrance, arms crossed, his body language aggressive. His eyes narrowed sharply the moment he spotted Amara getting off Kael's bike.
Kael felt the tension immediately, like a sudden drop in air pressure.
The guy stalked over. He was bigger, older, and had that look — the kind that didn't care who was watching.
"Hey, lil' bro," he sneered, standing way too close. "What do you think you're doing with my girl?"
"Huh?" Kael blinked, completely blindsided. He looked at Amara, confused, hoping she would explain.
Amara sighed and rolled her eyes, stepping in between them. "Would you shut up, Caleb? Kael just gave me a lift. Thanks, Kael. See you," she said dismissively, already starting to walk away.
But Caleb wasn't having it.
Before Kael could react, Caleb shoved him hard, sending him tumbling off his bike. The metal pedal scraped his leg as he hit the pavement with a painful thud.
"Fuck!" Kael shouted, gritting his teeth through the stinging pain.
Amara turned and grabbed Caleb's arm. "Stop, Caleb! He's just a kid!" she said, half-heartedly.
Caleb scoffed, towering over Kael. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Stay the fuck away from my girl, you hear? Fucken punk," he spat before turning back toward Amara.
She glanced over her shoulder one last time at Kael, a faint, almost mocking smile playing on her lips. "Bye, Kael," she said sweetly, like none of it had happened.
Caleb laughed low in his throat and grabbed a handful of her ass right in front of him, smirking as he did it, like he was daring Kael to say something.
A small crowd of students had gathered, their faces lit with cruel amusement. A few of them snickered openly, whispering to each other as they watched Kael scramble to gather himself.
Kael cursed under his breath, his face burning hot from the humiliation. He yanked his bike upright and pedaled away, his legs pumping furiously as he tried to outrun the burning in his chest.
'I thought she liked me,' he thought bitterly, the sting of betrayal sharp and raw.
By the time he got home, the sky had darkened completely. His parents weren't there — not that it mattered.
Kael dropped his bike on the front lawn and stormed inside, his heart pounding like a war drum. He stomped up the stairs to his room, barely registering anything around him.
Once inside, he lost it.
"Fuck!!! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!! Fucken bitch!!" he screamed, his voice ragged and hoarse.
He grabbed anything within reach — his lamp, his books, even a framed photo — and threw them against the walls. The glass shattered. The furniture shook. His bed sheets were ripped off, his chair overturned.
The destruction felt good, for a moment.
When it was over, when he had nothing left to break, he sank down onto the ruined floor, his chest heaving.
The tears came then — hot, angry, helpless.
He buried his face in his hands.
This was the worst day of his life.
....
A few days rolled by, heavy with the weight of silence.
Kael sat at his desk, the glow of his computer screen lighting up his darkened room. He refreshed the page again, even though he knew the number by heart.
His bank accounts — spread across different countries and hidden behind layers of anonymity — displayed a staggering total.
$99 million.
'Jesus... it's real,' he thought, staring at the digits in disbelief.
It was money split among various smaller accounts to avoid triggering tax authorities or raising suspicion. Everything was hidden, perfectly compartmentalized — the product of sleepless nights spent planning every detail with surgical precision.
Today, he decided, he would finally put it to work.
He spent the entire afternoon researching, investing into promising startups, tech companies, and small businesses that were still under the radar. It was slow, meticulous work, but Kael didn't mind. For once, he was building something for himself.
When he was finished, he looked at the remaining balance. Millions still sat there, untouched.
A lump formed in his throat as he made a decision he had been putting off.
He transferred a huge chunk to his parents, anonymously at first. But they tracked it down eventually, forcing a confrontation.
"What the hell is this, Kael?" his father had demanded, waving the bank statement at him.
Kael, heart pounding, had pleaded, begged them to accept it. He made up stories about winning some online competition, about lucky investments. Anything to keep them from digging too deep.
In the end, their pride cracked under the weight of the opportunity.
They paid off every debt they had — the mortgage, the credit cards, the lingering hospital bills. For the first time in years, they could breathe. They quit their jobs, started taking vacations, lived comfortably.
Kael watched from a distance, smiling, feeling a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.
But at night, in that same house, the thin walls did little to block out the sounds of their renewed passion.
'Yeah... definitely time to move out,' he thought grimly after one particularly traumatic evening of muffled moans and bedframe creaks.
Within a week, Kael had moved into a sleek apartment in the city, perched high above the streets. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the skyline, the fridge was always full, the internet was blazing fast. He had everything he could ever want — freedom, privacy, security.
The rest of Alpha Omega had drifted away, like smoke in the wind. No messages, no check-ins. They had all vanished into their own new lives, just as they had agreed.
Kael should have been at peace.
But perfection doesn't last.
It was a stormy night, the kind where the sky split open with angry flashes of lightning.
Kael was lying on his couch, half-watching a movie, when his phone buzzed.
His computer back in the warehouse.
"Warehouse compromised. They have everything."
His blood turned cold. He sat bolt upright, rereading it over and over, hoping it was some sick joke. But deep down, he knew.
His worst nightmare was happening.
Frantic, he checked online. News articles were already surfacing — Young High school graduate Tied to Major Cryptocurrency Scam. Screenshots of his name attached to damning files were spreading like wildfire. Forum posts, Twitter threads, memes.
His name. Only his name.
Everything had been tied back to him. The others had left no traces.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck!' he thought, panic clawing at his chest.
But he knew what needed to be done. They had discussed this scenario countless times. If anything went wrong, the evidence had to burn.
Rain poured down in sheets as Kael trudged through the deserted city streets, his black hoodie soaked and plastered to his skin.
The jerry can of petrol in one hand swung heavily with each step. His other hand clutched a lighter so tightly it dug into his palm.
Every breath he took came out in ragged clouds of steam.
This was it. No turning back.
He approached the warehouse through a maze of alleys, his heart hammering against his ribs. But even before he got close enough to see it, he knew something was wrong.
Bright flashes of light cut through the darkness. Police cars. Flashlights. Voices barking commands.
They were already inside.
The front door had been forced open. Yellow police tape fluttered in the rain.
'Fuck. I thought it'd take them longer to get a warrant!' he thought bitterly, hiding behind a rusted dumpster.
The smell of rain-soaked garbage filled his nose as he crouched low, the petrol sloshing dangerously in the can.
His mind raced. If he ran now, maybe he could—
A flashlight beam swept dangerously close.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" a sharp voice called out.
Kael froze. His breath caught in his throat.
For one terrifying second, he thought about trying to lie his way out of it.
Then instinct took over.
He bolted.
Boots splashed through deep puddles as he tore down the alley, the lighter slipping into his pocket, the jerry can swinging wildly in his grip.
"Hey! Stop!"
More voices now, more footsteps pounding after him.
'No way in hell am I getting caught tonight,' he thought, gritting his teeth.
Every muscle screamed at him to run faster. The rain blurred his vision, the cold cut into his lungs.
He turned a corner blindly, nearly slipping, the city around him a chaotic blur of dark shapes and blinding lights.
Somewhere deep inside, Kael knew — it was too late to run.
TO BE CONTINUED