The apartment was too quiet.
Not peaceful. Not safe.
Just heavy.
Like the silence after an earthquake—when the ground stops shaking but everything is still broken inside.
Karan sat on the edge of the couch, head lowered, fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt. His breath came unevenly, his chest still burning from the storm of emotions that had exploded minutes ago.
Arthit stood a few steps away.
Not daring to move closer.
Not daring to speak.
He kept watching Karan with eyes full of regret, fear, and something much deeper—something only Karan ever brought out of him.
"Karan…" Arthit said softly, almost afraid to break the fragile air between them.
Karan didn't look up.
"Don't. Just… don't right now."
Arthit lowered his gaze immediately.
He had faced guns, knives, betrayals, enemies, assassins, entire mafia families—but nothing frightened him as much as hurting the person sitting right in front of him.
He approached slowly and knelt in front of Karan, lowering himself until their eyes were aligned.
"Karan," Arthit whispered, "look at me."
Karan exhaled shakily and finally raised his head. His eyes were glossy, not with weakness, but with the aftermath of too much love and too much pain.
Arthit swallowed.
"You coming back… it means more to me than anything," he said. "I know you're angry. I know you're hurt. But you came home. To me. That alone—"
"It doesn't mean everything is fixed," Karan cut in, voice rough.
Arthit nodded immediately. "I know. But it means you haven't given up."
Karan looked away.
"I don't want to keep fighting with you," he muttered. "I don't want every day to feel like chaos. And I don't want people like Jun in our life."
Arthit's jaw tightened.
"He won't be."
Karan raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to do, kill him?"
Arthit hesitated—not because he feared saying yes…
but because part of him wanted to.
"I won't kill him unless he forces me," Arthit said slowly. "But I will remove him from everything. Permanently."
Karan studied him carefully.
"You promise?"
Arthit met his eyes with full sincerity.
"I promise you. On everything I am."
Something in Karan's heart softened—but the pain was still there.
He sighed and leaned back.
"Arthit… I'm tired."
Arthit almost reached out to touch him, but he stopped his hand mid-air, unsure if Karan was ready.
"Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?" he asked gently.
Karan shook his head.
"No. I want you here."
Arthit's chest loosened with relief.
So he sat beside Karan—not too close, not too far. Just enough.
They sat in silence for a long moment, letting the heat of the earlier confrontation slowly fade.
Then—
**KNOCK. KNOCK.**
Karan flinched.
Arthit's expression immediately darkened. He stood, grabbed his gun again, and walked toward the door without a word.
He didn't open it immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, listening.
The voice behind the door was trembling, fast, almost frantic.
"It's me! Open the door—hurry!"
Karan stiffened.
It wasn't Jun.
It was **Rit**, one of Arthit's trusted men.
Arthit lowered the gun just a fraction and opened the door.
Rit rushed inside, panting.
"Boss—we have a problem."
Arthit's expression hardened.
"What problem?"
Rit swallowed, glancing toward Karan nervously before lowering his voice.
"It's Jun."
Karan tensed.
Arthit schooled his face back into cold calm.
"What about him?" Arthit asked.
Rit hesitated.
"He didn't leave alone."
Karan frowned. "What do you mean?"
Rit swallowed again.
"There were two black SUVs waiting outside the building. Jun got into one of them."
Arthit's grip on his gun tightened. "Whose cars?"
Rit took a deep breath.
"We traced the plates. They belong to the… Sakda family's enemies."
Karan felt the blood drain from his face.
Arthit's voice lowered into a deadly whisper.
"…who?"
Rit's eyes flickered with fear.
"The *Thanakorn* syndicate."
Arthit's jaw clenched.
Karan's heart dropped.
He knew that name.
The Thanakorn syndicate wasn't just a threat.
They were the *one* mafia group powerful enough to compete with the Sakdas—smart, ruthless, manipulative.
And their oldest strategy was simple:
**Use the weakest link to get to the strongest heart.**
Karan swallowed. "Jun… went to them?"
Rit nodded.
"And sir… we intercepted a flagged message from their network."
Arthit's heart froze.
"What message?"
Rit met his eyes.
"It said:
*'Target secured.
Prepare for extraction.'*"
Karan blinked slowly, confused.
"Target? Why would they think Jun is—"
Rit shook his head.
"No, Karan. Not Jun."
He turned to Arthit.
"It's you."
Arthit went completely still.
Rit continued, voice trembling.
"They're planning to use **Karan**… to destroy you."
Silence.
Cold. Heavy. Sharp.
Karan's breath hitched.
Arthit stepped forward instantly, placing himself between Karan and the world, between Karan and danger.
"No one touches him," Arthit growled, voice shaking with fury.
"No one."
Rit nodded. "That's why I came. We need to secure this place. They might make a move soon."
Arthit turned to Karan, eyes fierce but terrified.
"You're not leaving my sight," he said softly. "Not for a second."
Karan blinked at him.
"Arthit—"
But Arthit pulled him closer with both hands, gripping him gently but firmly.
"I almost lost you today," Arthit whispered. "I won't lose you to them."
Karan felt his heart twist—not in fear, but in something deeper.
Because the danger wasn't Jun.
Not anymore.
A bigger storm was rising.
A real mafia war.
With Karan in the center of it.
Arthit tightened his hold.
And for the first time—
Karan didn't pull back.
He whispered,
"Okay… but we face this together."
Arthit breathed out shakily, pressing his forehead against Karan's.
"Together," he agreed.
Outside the apartment…
on the street below…
Jun sat inside the black SUV, watching their window with a twisted smile.
He lifted his phone and whispered:
"They're ready for him."
The SUV drove away.
The war had begun.
---
End of chapter 49