Jay jay's POV
I sign the discharge papers as I walk to the exit
Ci-n's holding my bag like it contains state secrets. Felix is filming my exit like it's the season finale. Edrix is narrating in an American accent for reasons unknown.
Keifer's quiet.
Too quiet.
He's been hovering all morning, helping me walk, fetching water, brushing my hair back like I'm fragile porcelain. But something's off. His smile's tight. His eyes keep flicking toward the entrance like he's waiting for a ghost.
I step outside.
The sun hits me like a slap. Real air. Real light. Real freedom.
And then—
A black car pulls up. Not screeching. Not flashy. Just wrong. The kind of wrong that makes your spine go cold.
The door opens.
And out steps someone in full black.
Keifer's dad
I recognise from the time he first 'kidnapped' us to his mansion and how I almost got killed. (10/10, would not recommend.)
Ci-n swears. Felix drops the camera. Edrix zooms in like it's a crime scene.
That monster walks over. Calm. Like he owns the footpath.
"Jay Jay," he points at me.
Keifer moves in front of me. "No."
"I just want to talk" he shrugs
Keifer grabs my hand.
That monster's eyes flick down. He sees it.
And I know.
This isn't over.
------------------------------------------x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x----------------------------------------Keifer's POV:
"I just want to talk," he says.
I grab her hand.
He sees it.
Smiles.
Of course he does.
Because he thinks this is a game.
Because he thinks I'm still twelve.
Because he thinks he can walk in, say a few words, and leave with everything.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be."
I stare.
He means the property.
The one Mum left.
The one he didn't get.
The one that he doesn't deserve a cent of.
"You're not getting it," I say.
He exhales. Almost a sigh. "Stubborn. Just like your mother. You'll change your mind, I know it"
Jay Jay's hand is still in mine.
She looks at me.
I look away.
He turns, smooth as ever, and slides back into the car. His men follow. The door shuts. The engine hums.
Gone.
But I know better. That wasn't retreat. That was strategy.
And this… this is just the beginning.
-----------------------------------------------x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x------------------------------------Yuri's POV:
The only two left on my list.
-Keifer
-Jay Jay
My hand shakes as I write their names, the pen digging too deep into the paper, almost tearing through. My chest feels tight, like I'm choking on something I can't spit out.
I really can't do this.
Not them. Anyone but them.
I stare at the page until the letters blur. Keifer, might have took maybe everything I ever wished for... he was still there for me, every time.
And Jay Jay… damn it, Jay Jay. She's not supposed to be here. She was never supposed to be in this world, dragged into our mess. She smiles like the sun, laughs like nothing can touch her, but I know better. I know what they do to people who shine too brightly.
My hand clenches into a fist, smudging ink across the paper. The list feels like a curse, and I'm the one holding it.
How do I put them down? How do I cross out the only two names that matter?
I close my eyes, breathing hard. Every thought is a war. Loyalty to him. Loyalty to blood. Loyalty to them.
And me—stuck in the middle, tearing apart.
"I can't do this," I whisper into the empty room. My voice cracks. "I can't."
But the paper doesn't care. The names don't disappear. And the list is still in my hand.
The list crumples in my fist. I want to tear it. Burn it. Pretend it never existed. But even if I did, the names would still be carved into me.
Keifer. Jay Jay.
They don't just give orders. They give chains. And the weight of them is strangling me.
I pace the room, dragging both hands through my hair until my scalp stings. Every wall feels like it's closing in, painted with his voice, his shadow.
"Loyalty first. Sacrifice first."
What Sa?
I'm the knife in their backs if I listen. The coward if I don't.
I slam my fist against the desk. The sound echoes, loud enough to wake ghosts.
I can't kill them.I won't.
But if I refuse, it won't be me who pays. It'll be them.
The thought claws at my chest, sinking deeper and deeper.
I stare at their names again, scrawled in my handwriting. My throat is raw, my eyes burning.
There has to be another way. A way to keep them alive without burying myself.