JAY'S POV —
The moment my phone was taken, something inside me went very still.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Training.
I didn't react. Didn't argue. Didn't even look annoyed. I let my shoulders relax, my expression soften—like a girl inconvenienced, not cornered.
My fingers slid into the side pocket of my backpack instead.
Careful. Familiar.
Cold metal pressed against my palm.
The gun stayed hidden beneath my jacket, snug against my ribs, exactly where it was supposed to be. Insurance. Not intention.
Yet.
The car slowed.
Gates opened.
And my blood turned to ice.
The mansion rose in front of us—massive, glass and stone and money stacked into something that pretended to be elegance. I knew this place.
Not personally.
But by reputation.
By ghosts.
The door opened. I stepped out.
And then I saw them.
Section E.
Cin. Felix. Rory. Edrix. Denzel. Drew. Eman. Blaster. Calix. David. Eren.Mayo.Kit.Josh.
All of them standing there in varying states of confusion, irritation, and barely disguised defiance.
My heart stuttered.
What the hell were they doing here?
Before I could move—
He appeared.
Kaizer Watson.
Time folded in on itself.
He looked the same. Older, maybe. Sharper. Still impeccably dressed. Still wearing that calm, dangerous smile that never quite reached his eyes.
The man who had ruined lives with a signature and a nod.
The man whose name I'd chased across files and shadows for years.
The man who had been responsible for my friend's death.
My grip tightened imperceptibly around the gun.
Breathe.
I lifted my chin.
And pretended I had never seen him before in my life.
"Welcome," Kaizer said smoothly, stepping forward. "I'm glad you could all make it."
His eyes flicked to me—paused for a fraction of a second too long—then moved on.
Good.
He didn't recognize me.
Or he did, and was pretending.
Either way, I survived it.
Engines roared behind us.
Fast.
Too fast.
Two cars screeched into the driveway like they were late to a war.
Keifer's car nearly clipped the edge of the fountain.
Yuri's wasn't far behind.
Keifer got out before the engine even shut off.
And I'd never seen that look on him before.
Not jealousy. Not tension. Not even anger.
This was something darker.
Something lethal.
He walked straight toward Kaizer, every step deliberate, eyes burning with a kind of hatred that made the air tighten.
Kaizer's men moved instantly.
Guns raised.
Pointed.
My hand flexed.
Keifer didn't slow.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't look at the weapons trained on him like they mattered.
"Relax," Kaizer said calmly, lifting a hand. "Stand down."
The men hesitated—but obeyed.
Keifer stopped inches away from his father.
"You had no right," he said, voice low and shaking with restraint. "None."
Kaizer studied him—not unkindly. Not apologetically either.
"I come in peace, son," he replied. "I just wanted to have lunch. With you. And your friends."
Friends.
I watched Keifer's jaw clench.
Yuri stepped up beside him, silent but solid.
Every boy from Section E had gone still.
They knew.
Maybe not the details—but they felt the danger.
Kaizer turned, gesturing toward the mansion. "Come. Food is getting cold."
No one moved.
Then—slowly—Keifer did.
Not because he wanted to.
But because he needed to know why.
We followed.
Inside, the mansion was exactly what you'd expect—polished marble, massive chandeliers, the kind of wealth that didn't need to show off because it already owned the room.
We were led to a long dining table.
Seats were indicated.
Carefully arranged.
Too carefully.
I sat where they placed me.
Back straight. Expression neutral.
Every sense alert.
Kaizer took the head of the table.
Keifer sat two seats down from him.
Across from me.
Our eyes met.
Just for a second.
And in that second, something passed between us—recognition, grounding, a silent are you okay?
I gave the smallest nod.
The doors opened again.
Late.
Heavy footsteps.
And this time—pain followed them in.
Keiran and Keigan.
Keifer's brothers.
Both of them looked like they'd walked straight out of a bad night and lost the argument with it. Bruises blooming along knuckles and jawlines. Keiran's lip split. Keigan's sleeve torn like someone had grabbed him and meant it.
Keifer's hand clenched on the table.
Hard.
I felt it before I saw it—the shift in him. The way his body went rigid, protective, furious.
So that's why we're here.
Not dinner.
Leverage.
Kaizer's mouth curved faintly. "You're late."
Keiran didn't answer.
Keigan's eyes flicked to Keifer, then to the guns stationed too casually near the walls.
They took their seats.
Silence swallowed the room.
Kaizer tried to speak to Keifer—something about school, about "keeping distance," about "misunderstandings."
Keifer didn't give him a single word.
Not one.
Not even a glance.
So Kaizer did what men like him always did when control slipped.
He turned to someone else.
Me.
"You're new," he said lightly, as if we were at a charity dinner and not a chessboard. "I don't believe we've met. Tell me about yourself."
My spine went cold.
Every instinct screamed danger.
I didn't move right away.
I looked at Keifer.
Just once.
His eyes were on me now—sharp, warning, pleading all at the same time.
Be careful.
I inhaled.
And smiled.
"Jasper Jean Mariano, sir," I said evenly. "You can call me Jay."
"Interesting," Kaizer mused. "Mariano… I've heard that name."
The table tightened around us.
My pulse stayed steady.
"Your parents?" he asked casually.
There it was.
The blade.
"Jaspher Mariano," I replied. "My father. Jeana Fernandez—my mother."
The laugh came too fast.
Too pleased.
"Ah," Kaizer said, nodding as if he'd solved a riddle. "Yes. I knew them."
Keifer's jaw flexed.
Kaizer leaned back in his chair. "Your father was a business associate of mine."
He paused.
Then smiled wider.
"Before he died."
My fingers curled into my palm so hard my nails bit skin.
Breathe.
Don't react.
"I knew your mother too," he continued, eyes never leaving mine. "Through one of my… friends."
The word dripped.
"And you're their daughter," he said, looking me over like inventory. "Wow. Never thought they'd produce someone like you."
Something inside my chest cracked.
He wasn't done.
"Tell me," Kaizer added mildly, "do you know what really—"
The glass shattered.
Keifer stood so fast his chair crashed backward.
The wine glass in his hand exploded against the table, shards flying across white linen like stars. Red liquid spilled like blood.
No one breathed.
Kaizer's men reached for their guns.
"Enough," Keifer said.
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It was the sound of a line being drawn in concrete.
"You don't get to say their names," he continued, eyes blazing. "Not like that. Not ever."
Kaizer looked almost… amused.
"Sit down," he said calmly. "You're embarrassing yourself."
Keifer didn't.
I did.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Every movement controlled.
I met Kaizer's eyes.
And for the first time—
I let him see something real.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Promise.
"My parents don't need you remembered," I said quietly. "And neither do I."
The room went still.
Kaizer's smile faded—just a fraction.
Enough.
Keifer's hand found the edge of the table.
Not to steady himself.
To stay.
Yuri shifted beside him.
Section E didn't move—but every single one of them was watching now. Alert. United. Ready.
Kaizer cleared his throat, adjusting his cuff like this was still his house and his rules applied.
"Okay," he said lightly, forcing the moment back into a box. "Let's eat."
No one touched their plates.
Because some things—once broken—
Couldn't be ignored.
And as I sat there, gun warm against my ribs, eyes locked with the man I'd hunted for years—
I realized something terrifying.
He didn't summon us for dinner.
He summoned us because he finally recognized me.
And this?
This was just the beginning...