The transition was swift and cold. Under Mike's supervision, Mild's few belongings were packed into a sleek SUV. Mike had rented a high-end, discreet apartment in the city—a place where Arm's school guards wouldn't have immediate jurisdiction.
As they settled into the new space, Mild stood by the window, his eyes searching the street below for a black sedan he knew too well.
"Stop looking for him, Mild," Mike said, leaning against the doorframe. He kept his distance, honoring the boundary Mild had set, but his gaze was heavy. "You're worried about a ghost. You'll fall for me soon enough, and then that scumbag brother of mine will be nothing but a bad memory."
Mild looked at him, his voice hollow. "Why are you doing all this, Mike? Is it just to hurt him?"
Mike smiled, a sharp, enigmatic expression. "I'll be willing to change—I'll even be good to Arm—the day you finally give me your heart. Until then, I play to win."
