Malia and Daphne finally reached the charred remains of the old plane wreck, breath ragged, boots crunching over scorched earth. They collapsed behind a broken tree trunk, hearts pounding. For a moment, silence.
Then suddenly, Daphne broke - her shoulders trembled as tears streamed down her face. "I left them... I let them go..." Her voice cracked. "How could I just leave them behind?"
Malia turned, her face heavy with guilt but trying to stay composed. "Daphne... even if you stayed, you couldn't have changed what happened. You'd be in chains too, or worse."
Then Daphne's eyes widened slightly, a memory flashing through her mind - Jason's voice, calm but firm, " People die that's what they do. You can't save everyone." Her lips trembled, holding back another wave of emotion.
Without a word, she suddenly rose to her feet, startling Malia.
"Daphne-? What now?!" Malia asked, eyes narrowing in confusion.
Daphne frantically patted herself down, searching. Her breaths grew faster, more panicked - until her knees buckled slightly.
"It's gone..." she whispered. "The bear... the one Jason gave me... I left it back at the motel..."
She fell to her knees, breaking down like a child clutching invisible pieces of comfort.
Malia pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, but even she couldn't hide the emotion in her voice. "Seriously... of all times to cry over a teddy bear..." Her tone was sharp - but her eyes told a different story.
"Now what?" Malia muttered, eyes fixed on the ground, voice low.
Daphne blinked, surprised by the question. "Huh?"
"I mean... we can't just sit here and do nothing. Do we try to rescue the boys or what?"
"You'd actually do that?" Daphne asked, voice trembling, eyes wide. "No offense, but... this doesn't even involve you. And your motel- it was wrecked because of us."
Malia shrugged, a dry smile tugging at her lips. "The place was falling apart anyway. I've had more shutdown notices than guests lately."
A small, grateful smile broke through Daphne's tears. "Still... thank you."
Suddenly, Malia stood up, brushing dirt from her pants. "Alright. Let's go. My bet is that they're in the underground prison ring."
Daphne's brows furrowed. "The underground what?"
"It's where Mr. Hugh supposedly dumps anyone who crosses him. A ghost story in most circles... but if they're hiding someone off the grid, that's the place."
"But as you said it's just a rumor," Daphne said, hesitant. "Can we even trust that?"
Malia turned to her, serious now. "We don't have the luxury of certainty, Daphne. We either act, or we lose them. I say we go in undercover - pull off a classic break-in. Grab the keys off some sleeping guard, slip in and out like pros. Jason'll be free before sunrise. He'll probably say something like, 'Malia, you saved me - I owe you my life-'"
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"
Malia coughed. "Ignore that last part. You in?"
"No. And what makes you think this is gonna play out like some spy movie? What if the guard isn't asleep?"
"Then we improvise," Malia replied. "Unless you've got something better?"
Daphne hesitated, then slowly nodded. "They probably don't know our faces yet. We're nobodies to them."
Malia's eyes narrowed. "Go on..."
"So we wait by the gate," Daphne continued, "Hide until a delivery truck or something comes through - rich people always order stuff. When it slows down, we jump 'em, disguise ourselves, slip in with the shipment. If things go south, we play dumb: say we got lost looking for a bathroom."
Malia rubbed her chin, impressed. "Risky. But clever."
She cracked a grin. "I haven't had this much adrenaline in years. Let's break into hell."
"Then let's get going." Daphne turned, determination flaring in her eyes.
But Malia grabbed her arm, stopping her mid-step. "Wait. We can't just charge in. Who knows if this'll even work. We need rest. Strength. Let's hit it tomorrow-fresh minds, sharp moves."
Daphne whipped around. "Tomorrow? What if we're already too late?"
Malia placed both hands on her shoulders. "They're not gonna kill them... not yet. Bad guys always want something first. They'll probably torture them, interrogate-" She paused as Daphne's expression crumbled. "Okay, bad example. But my point is-they're still alive. Which means we still have time."
Daphne bit her lip. Her fists clenched. Then finally, she gave a slow nod.
"We'll crash at my crazy ex-husband's old apartment," Malia added, forcing a grin. "It's dusty, reeks of whiskey and regret, but it's safe."
Daphne blinked. "Wait-ex-husband?"
"Yeah, don't ask. Whole mess lasted shorter than this war."
And with that, the two slipped off under the harsh afternoon sun, their quiet conversation fading into the dry silence as they disappeared into the light, unnoticed.
Meanwhile, Mr. Hugh's sleek black car rolled to a halt at the mansion. The air around him thickened as he stepped out. Aiden greeted him at the steps.
"Well? Where's Liam?" Mr. Hugh asked, rolling up his sleeves. "Resting? Eating? I trust he's being taken care of."
"Yes, sir," Aiden nodded. "He's safe."
Mr. Hugh said nothing, but his eyes were already calculating.
"I also followed the lead on Zoukman Kai. He wasn't involved," Aiden continued. "From what we've dug up, none of our known enemies orchestrated this. The assassins are foreign-likely hired by someone outside the country. We're still pursuing that lead."
Mr. Hugh waved a hand dismissively and handed his watch to a nearby guard. "I don't care who sent them. I'll get the truth one way or another."
He strode toward the underground prison ring.
Jason sat tied to a chair in a dim, concrete room. His head hung low, lip busted, one eye already swelling. The heavy iron door creaked open. In stepped Mr. Hugh, his presence swallowing the space.
Jason barely had time to look up before a fist crashed into his jaw.
"You better start talking," Mr. Hugh growled. "Or I'll make you wish you were never born."
Jason chuckled through bloody teeth. "And what if I've got nothing to say?"
Mr. Hugh smirked - cold and cruel - then landed another blow, harder. He grabbed Jason by the hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to look into his eyes.
"Tell me who sent you. Or your pretty face is gonna be nothing but a stain on this floor."
Jason, blood running down his chin, smirked again. "Go ahead. Make me uglier."
Without hesitation, Mr. Hugh cracked a third punch into his face. Jason's body sagged - unconscious.
Mr. Hugh straightened, still gripping Jason's hair. "Pathetic. Three hits and he's out cold?" He dropped him with disgust and turned to Aiden. "I thought this one had spine."
"He was running a fever earlier apparently," Aiden said quietly. "Still recovering."
Mr. Hugh scoffed, crouching beside Jason. "This is who they sent for my son?" He slapped Jason's face lightly, mocking. "A sick little stray?"
He stood and dusted his sleeves. "Get him treated. I want him healed. Because when I break him... I want him awake for every second of it."
Mr. Hugh stepped back into the mansion, blood drying on his knuckles. The door clicked shut behind him.
His wife greeted him from the hallway, arms crossed but tone calm. "You're back."
She glanced briefly at his bruised hand, red-stained and pulsing, but didn't comment.
"Where's Liam?" he asked, brushing past her.
"In his room. He should be asleep by now."
Mr. Hugh didn't stop walking. "Then I'll check on him."
She moved to block his path. "Darling... maybe let him rest. He's just been through a traumatic-"
He shot her a look - sharp, unwavering.
She stepped aside immediately.
Without another word, Mr. Hugh ascended the stairs.
He opened Liam's bedroom door quietly. The room was dimly lit, and Liam was sitting on his bed, poking at his food with a spoon like it weighed a ton.
Mr. Hugh stepped in and sat beside him.
"Been a long time, champ." He ruffled Liam's hair with a rare gentleness.
"I'm sorry if I made you worry, Dad," Liam mumbled. His voice was flat, lifeless.
Mr. Hugh studied him closely. Something wasn't right. The light in his son's eyes... was gone.
"Liam... what did those men do to you?" his voice low but firm. "Did they hurt you?"
Suddenly, Liam's hands shot up to his ears. His plate clattered to the ground.
"Stop it! Stop it! All of you just stop!" he cried. "They're not bad people-no one listens! Big bro's not bad! He's not-he's my best friend!"
Mr. Hugh was frozen, caught off guard.
Mrs. Hugh, who had been eavesdropping by the door, rushed in. "Liam, honey-breathe. You need to calm down, alright?"
Tears welled in Liam's eyes as his body trembled. Seconds later, exhaustion overtook him and he slumped back, fast asleep.
Both parents stepped outside, quietly closing the door behind them.
Leaning against the wall, Mr. Hugh exhaled. "Big bro," he muttered under his breath. "Those bastards really knew what they were doing. Charm him. Manipulate him. Make him think they were protecting him."
He shook his head. "And Liam bought into every damn second of it."
Then, colder-crueler-he added, "I'm starting to wonder if that boy's even mine."
Mrs. Hugh's eyes widened. "Of course he is," she snapped. "Why would you say something like that?"
He didn't answer. Just stared at the door with a storm raging behind his eyes.
Night had fallen. The room was dim, lit only by the sterile white glow of a single ceiling light. Jason's eyes snapped open. His vision adjusted quickly, and the first thing he noticed was the cold weight of metal on both wrists - handcuffs. He exhaled sharply.
"...Figures."
His body felt lighter, less like it had been stomped into the earth. Someone had patched him up. Bandages wrapped his side, and the pain in his ribs had dulled.
"They treated me..." he muttered under his breath. "Tch. Guess they want me healthy before they break me. Classic."
His jaw clenched as the image of the man who'd knocked him out flashed through his mind.
"That was Liam's father... no doubt. Damn. I sure hope Liam doesn't turn out like him ."
He shifted slightly, eyes scanning the room - and froze. Across from him on another bed, Brandon lay unconscious... or so he thought. Jason squinted. A twitch. An eyelid flinch.
"Crazy bastard."
"Wake up, Brandon. I know you're not out cold."
Brandon groaned. "You had to ruin it, huh? I was just starting to enjoy the peace. I didn't bug you when you were unconscious, did I? No. But you-"
Jason tuned him out. His thoughts drifted, sharp and heavy.
At least Liam is with his family. Safe... hopefully. But Daphne. Malia.
Did they make it out? Are they okay?
Damn it... I might actually die here.
Not like it matters. I've made my peace. Except-
A sharp sting broke his thoughts. Something had hit him in the face. He snapped his head toward Brandon.
Jason's glare could've cut glass. "You got a death wish?"
Brandon grinned unapologetically. "You deserved it. I've been talking to myself for five minutes while you stared off like a ghost."
Jason's eyes narrowed. "How'd you even throw? You're cuffed."
Brandon smirked. "Trade secret."
A long silence followed.
"...We're not getting out of here like this," Brandon said finally. "If they're keeping us alive, they're planning something."
"I know," Jason muttered. "I've been running plans in my head since I woke up. None of them seemed like it's going to work out. I screwed up. This happened because I got too comfortable."
Brandon leaned his head back, chuckling softly. "Don't beat yourself up too much, Jay-Jay. I mean yeah, it was your fault-but I'm still here, aren't I?"
Jason threw him another glare, but this time... he cracked a small smile.
"...Yeah," he said quietly.
"We'll make it out. Somehow."
A sudden roar erupted through the underground arena, metal stands vibrating with sound.
"TODAY!"
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. "WE'RE HAVING FIVE ROUNDS - AND SIR AIDEN HIMSELF IS JOINING THE RING!"
The crowd erupted, thunderous and unrelenting.
"AND - HEARD OF THE LEGENDARY VORTEX? THE ONE WHO RUTHLESSLY OPENED THAT WOMAN'S GUTS? WELL - SURPRISE SURPRISE- HE'S IN OUR RING TONIGHT!"
More cheers. Shouts. Savage excitement.
Jason exhaled, eyes narrowing.
"You've got to be kidding me... Just kill me already."
Four guards stormed into the room with military precision, unlocked the handcuffs on Jason and Brandon, and shoved them forward.
"Don't try anything stupid," one guard warned. "This is our turf. You move wrong - and you're gone."
Jason and Brandon were escorted into the center of the massive cage-like ring. Spotlights cut through the smoke. The announcer, a woman with a razor-sharp voice, stepped forward.
"HERE THEY ARE - THE VORTEX TEAM!"
The crowd roared like a tidal wave.
"AND - FACING THEM! THE SHADOW TEAM!"
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. A heavy, tense silence before a storm.
Five figures entered the ring.
Aiden - tall, composed, cold eyes locked in.
Jinx - cracking his knuckles, grin sharp as blades.
Bon - focused, predatory.
And two more flanking them like executioners.
Brandon leaned slightly forward and cleared his throat.
"Uhh... excuse me," he said stiffly, eyeing the numbers.
"Isn't this... a little unfair? I mean, it's two versus five - shouldn't we pick three more fighters?"
The announcer chuckled.
"Nope. Nobody volunteered."
Brandon blinked.
"But-"
Jason didn't wait. He already stepped forward, posture relaxed - almost bored.
"We don't need more arms," he said, voice flat but lethal.
"We'll take all five."
Bon closed the gap instantly, fists dropped low, eyes burning.
"That's rich, coming from someone who's already lost."
Jason tilted his head - cold, measured, absolutely unshaken.
"Don't get cocky. And why are you still here? Shouldn't your job be done?"
Bon laughed - but her eyes were fire.
"My job isn't just retrieving the kid."
Her voice was ice and blade.
"I'm here to punish Vortex in the name of the Ashford family. Rosita Ashford was mine - my cousin. And you're going to pay." She paused briefly then continued.
"Do you know there was a tip-off about your mission - that's how we knew you were coming. The moment I got wind of it, I went straight to Mr. Hugh. There was no way I was letting an opportunity like that slip through my fingers."
Jason regarded her with calm precision.
"I see."
He took a breath... then looked at Brandon.
Brandon scoffed quietly.
"We're so dead, aren't we?"
Jason didn't flinch.
"Yeah, but don't act like she's not dangerous. She's pissed... and that's never good."
Brandon grimaced.
"Damn it... Rosita still hunting me after all these years."
Jason back‑handed him lightly - more amusement than anger.
"Focus, Brandon. This is serious."
Brandon cleared his throat, stepping forward.
"Ma'am," he said to the announcer, with all the unintended bravado he could muster,
"what exactly do we get if we win?"
The announcer smiled - and it was colder than steel.
"You get to fight... tomorrow," she said. "And the day after that. And the day after that - till you drop dead. Now - LET THE BATTLE COMMENCE!"
The crowd exploded. Metal rang. Gloves tightened. The ring became a battlefield.
And the first strike rang out like thunder.
The first round was Brandon's. He and a member of Shadow stood alone in the ring. The crowd roared around them, hungry for violence.
His opponent took a slow step forward, eyes sharp and unreadable. Brandon raised a hand casually, forcing a grin.
"Hey, man... do we really have to throw hands? Maybe we can just talk this out?" he joked, though his stance subtly shifted-ready to move.
The Shadow fighter didn't respond. Just tilted his head-and charged.
Outside the ring, Jason wasn't watching the fight. His eyes scanned the arena, calculating every guard, every camera, every locked door.
"This place is a fortress," he thought. "Getting in was one thing-getting out with Liam will be suicide without help. Damn it... Malia, Daphne-please tell me you're coming."
Suddenly, a thud echoed.
"Shadow down! That's a knockout in under ten seconds!" the announcer shouted as the crowd erupted. Brandon cracked his knuckles, smirking.
"Round two... BEGIN!"
Jason stepped into the ring, expression unreadable. His opponent was already grinning-two gleaming knives in hand.
Jason frowned. "Seriously? We're using weapons now?"
As if on cue, the announcer chimed in mockingly, "Oh, did we forget to mention? Any weapon goes."
Jason muttered, "Perfect...". No time to think. His opponent lunged forward, blades flashing.
"We're not even counting down? What happened to one-two-three-"
Jason ducked low and drove a brutal kick into the man's gut, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing into the cage wall.
"Go." he said flatly.
The crowd exploded with cheers.
From the sidelines, Bon watched with growing annoyance.
"Tch... bunch of clowns. I knew they were weak. They've just sped up their own defeat." She cracked his knuckles, eyes already set on Jason.
"Soon."