Jean's chest rose and fell quickly, still flushed from what had just happened. But as his gaze flicked toward the kitchen counter… there they were. Two slim vials. The liquid inside shimmered faintly under the overhead light, too strange, too wrong.
He froze. Something about them clawed at the back of his mind. The way Rai had avoided him for weeks. The way Rowon punched him, furious, shouting about consequences. The way Rai refused to answer his questions.
And the way Rai constantly looked back at the vials… then at him. Too fishy.
Jean's lips curved. Fine. If you won't tell me, Rai… I'll find out myself.
Careful not to disturb Rai's grip, Jean shifted, fingers ghosting over the counter as if casually brushing crumbs away. In a smooth motion, quick and precise, he slid one vial into his pocket.Child's play.
By the time Rai's hand slipped from his waist and his eyes opened again, Jean was tugging on his shirt, cool and nonchalant.
"Going already?" Rai's voice was low, guarded.
Jean smirked, leaning down just enough to brush his lips against Rai's ear.
"Don't ignore me next time. Or I'll break in instead of knocking."
Rai's jaw clenched. He didn't notice the weight missing from the counter.
Jean walked out the door, the vial burning like a secret against his thigh. He had no idea what it was yet—but he knew one thing for sure: it was connected to Sage. And to the truth Rai was too scared to tell him.
*****
The most awaiting wedding has come.
The ballroom was a storm of glittering lights and polished marble, crystal chandeliers scattering brilliance over tables overflowing with rare flowers and gourmet delicacies. Power, wealth, and prestige hung in the air like perfume—the kind only the world's elite could wield effortlessly.
Guests arrived in a parade of couture and tailored suits: the Wrights presiding over the gala with effortless authority; the Greens quietly observing, their hospital empire whispering behind every smile; the Browns, sharp and composed, with Sage Brown's gaze sweeping across the room like a predator; the Ryuzakis, enigmatic and silent; the Wilsons, the Herssons, the Smiths, the Ashfords—all rubbing shoulders with Yakuza dignitaries and industrial titans from around the globe.
Sam walked beside Sage, his expression carefully neutral. Behind him, Sam's fathers fury simmered, ready to erupt. "You… you held him for two months?!" he bellowed, eyes blazing.
Sonia, dazzling in her pristine white gown, moved like a hurricane. Without a second thought, she lunged at Sage, unleashing a flurry of precise Teakondo strikes. Sage, impossibly graceful, danced around her, evading every blow, a teasing smirk curling his lips.
Sage: You welcome your guests like this?
Sonia: You fucker!! How dare you kidnap my brother!!?
Nathan: Oh my my. You shouldn't curse at your wedding.
Sam: Your groom is waiting on the other side of the aisle and you are doing Teakondo here?
The crowd froze as Sonia launched herself into her final, devastating kick—but Sage caught her mid-air effortlessly. Gasps swept the room as he carried her down the aisle, where Sam supposed to walk her down, weaving between the stunned guests, delivering her directly into the waiting arms of Zayden Ashford.
"Take care of her," Sage said smoothly, voice carrying a warning that made the moment unforgettable. "I'll be watching you."
Sonia's mouth opened, ready to spit out a curse—but Nathan's hand clamped over hers just in time, muffling the expletive.
From the sidelines, Jake, Ray, Juli, Miana, Prez, Rowon, Rai, Sam, Jean, and Felton couldn't contain themselves. Laughter erupted, loud and uncontrollable, cutting through the opulence, as if years of rivalry, pranks, and pent-up tension had boiled over in one perfect, chaotic moment.
Sonia, Sage, and Nathan exchanged glances, the ghost of their college antics flashing through their eyes—a mischievous, irrepressible spark that had survived the years. And tonight, even amidst the grandeur, the legacy, and the high-stakes alliances, the old chaos lived on.
For Sonia, it was finally a moment of triumph, a union of love and legacy—but for those who knew the Browns and their world, it was a perfect storm of mischief, power, and barely-contained danger.
Sonia and Zayden sealed their vows with a kiss, and the crowed cheered.
The banquet continued, lavish and intoxicating, a dazzling celebration of wealth, family, and the kind of chaotic energy only the truly powerful could wield.
______
Toasts rang out, champagne flowed, and every powerful family in the room raised their glasses, congratulating the bride and groom.
And yet, amid the celebration, Sam's hand pressed subtly against his lower belly. A sharp twinge, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, had him winching slightly as he navigated the crowd. He forced a smile at an approaching guest, raising his glass politely, but the ache burned deeper with each step.
Sage, ever observant, noticed. His eyes flicked toward Sam across the crowd, calculating, unblinking. Rowon, a few paces behind, caught the subtle hesitation in Sam's gait, the faint tightening of his jaw, and his hand instinctively hovered closer to where Sam moved his hand. Something was off. Rai was right.
Sam's breaths grew shallow, small hisses escaping his lips as he tried to mask it under polite laughter and conversation. The pain pulsed, constant yet subtle, threading tension into every step. He moved toward the restroom, away from the crowd, hoping no one would notice the tremor in his fingers or the pale strain in his expression.
Unknown to him, Sage had already shifted through the crowd, a silent predator in a sea of celebration, eyes fixed entirely on Sam. Rowon, following at a cautious distance, narrowed his gaze, sensing danger but not yet able to define it.
Meanwhile, Apollo, sitting with a quiet smile at the side, observed everything. The play, the chaos, the concealed suffering—it all amused him. Every detail mattered. Eyes on Rowon.
_____
Jean, Jake, and Prez slipped into a quiet corner of the hotel lounge, away from the glittering chaos of the wedding. Jean's hands fidgeted as he pulled the vial from his pocket, its faint shimmer catching the soft light.
Prez raised an eyebrow. "Now, why drag us into the corner?"
Jean leaned closer, voice low. "I've got something for you two. Look at this." He held up the vial, turning it over in his hands like it were a weapon. "I… I stole it from Rai's counter. Something about it feels wrong. Rai won't explain what they discussed in Sage's office, and my gut… my gut says this is the reason."
Jake leaned forward, eyes wide. "Wait… you stole what now? Jean, that's… huge. Are you sure about this? It's not some harmless old-person medicine, right?"
Prez nudged Jake sharply. "How can you be so sure? Did something happen? And what the hell could this vial even contain?"
Jean's gaze flicked around nervously. "I'm sure because Rai kept looking at it… so suspiciously. Like he was expecting someone to see him. And that's not like him—he's a detective, he shouldn't show emotions… yet he did."
Jake snorted. "A detective who can't control his expression? How did he even get promoted?"
Prez rolled his eyes. "Will you please shut up, dickhead?"
Jean ignored them. "I need you guys to run tests on it. Secretly. No one can know—not your fathers, not Rai, not anyone."
Prez's jaw tightened. "Jean… do you realize what you're asking? If they find out—"
"I know," Jean cut in, his voice steady, though his grip on the vial betrayed him. "But if we don't figure out what this is… we could be too late. It's not just medicine or chemicals. I… I think Rai, Sage… there's more going on than we know. And it could affect—"
Prez and Jake exchanged a quick look and said in unison, "Affect who? Us?"
Jean shook his head. "I can't say yet. That's why I need you to start testing immediately. Find out what it contains. Anything you need—data, access—just ask."
Prez smirked, taking the vial from Jean's hands. "Don't worry, Mr. Z. Access is child's play for us. We've got this."
Jake nodded. "Alright. But we do it carefully. No records, no traces. Just us."
Jean exhaled, relief mingling with tension. "Exactly. I don't know what's in here, but I need to understand it. And I don't trust anyone else to handle it."
Prez squeezed Jean's shoulder, a reassuring weight. "Then we do it together. Quietly. Carefully. Whatever this is… we'll figure it out before it's too late."
_____
The restroom door clicked shut behind them, muting the clink of glasses and hum of laughter from the banquet hall. Sam braced himself against the marble sink, his breath ragged, one hand clutching his abdomen as a sharp wave of pain twisted through him.
"Sam." Sage's voice was low, firm, but with a surprising softness woven into it. He moved closer, steadying Sam by the shoulder. "Breathe. Slowly. You're fine."
"I'm not fine," Sam hissed, sweat dampening his temple. His chest heaved as if the air itself resisted him.
Sage's thumb brushed against his wrist, grounding him. "Shhh. Everything is fine. " His gaze lingered on Sam with that unsettling steadiness—half comfort, half possession.
Sam wanted to believe him, " It hurts."
Sage, " It will go away. "
Something in Sage's tone, in the certainty of it, made his stomach knot even tighter. He couldn't shake the feeling there was something Sage wasn't saying.Too fishy. He swallowed hard, forcing the thought deep into his mind. Later. He would talk to Jean and Jake later. For now, he just had to endure.
Outside the restroom, Rowon lingered in the shadowed corridor, his sharp ears tuned to every muffled word. His brows furrowed. Whatever Sage and Sam were whispering about, it wasn't casual. He leaned in closer, about to press his ear against the door—
Thud.
A sharp sting pierced the side of his neck. His breath hitched, vision blurring. He staggered, his hand flying up to the spot.
Through the haze, Rowon caught a glimpse of a silhouette, cold and deliberate. Then a voice—calm, commanding, terrifyingly familiar—cut through the ringing in his ears.
"Pick him up," Apollo ordered.
The last thing Rowon saw before darkness swallowed him whole was the gleam of Apollo's eyes, and the faintest smile curving his lips.