Accidentally His.

The gunshot echoed like thunder.He ran, barefoot, breathless, across the marble floor covered with blood. His lungs burned, each gasp like fire in his chest. His throat was raw, and dried from screaming.“Mom—!”Her hand reached out from behind the silk curtain. Trembling. Red-soaked fingers curled as if trying to hold on to him, one last time.Then the shadows moved.A masked figure stepped forward, pistol raised.Another shot.His father’s eyes widened, then went empty.The world cracked apart.Drake dropped to his knees. His sobs were broken, silent, stolen by the horror around him. The chandelier groaned as it broke loose from the ceiling and fell in a blaze of crystal and gold, shattering across the floor in a burst of firelight.And then.Silence.He woke with a gasp, choking on nothing.His chest heaved, sweat-soaked sheets tangled around his legs. The room was dark and too quiet, the ceiling fan’s gentle music, suddenly a cruel mimicry of distant gunfire. The nightmare always

“Miguel!” the girls squealed from the back of the room, their voices high-pitched and breathless like they’d been waiting all morning for his entrance.Steve, standing tall and cocky, turned with a smug smile. “Miguel!” he cooed mockingly, then reached for Miguel’s arm, gripping it possessively while glaring daggers at Drake. “He needs to know his place. He dared to mock me.”Miguel didn’t react right away. His eyes slid over Steve with ice-cold detachment, then shifted to Drake, his gaze unreadable.When he finally spoke in an audible voice, though his voice was low, calm, and deadly. “Don’t put your filthy hands on him again. You’re hurting the fellow. And it wouldn’t look nice if a guy had to beat up a lady.”The classroom erupted with nervous laughter. Some of the students gasped, others giggled like they weren’t sure if they should. Drake’s ears burned. His stomach turned, not at the insult, but at the fact that Miguel had just referred to him as a lady.The laughter stabbed shar

Anything to regain his face? He would do.He ended the call without another word. He stood in silence, then looked down again at the journal, now a loaded weapon in his hands.He smiled. A cold, elegant smile that didn’t reach his eyes.“Oh, Drake,” he whispered. “You just made things so much more fun.”**Drake’s shoes scraped against the cracked pavement as he approached the rusty door to his apartment. His muscles ached, the leftover energy in his body spent, during hours at the store, but he forced himself up the creaking stairs and twisted the key into the jammed lock.The door groaned open.The small, dimly lit apartment greeted him with its usual damp staleness. The air smelled of old books and rust, and the only sound came from the soft dripping of the leaking pipe under the sink, and the angry fan that hung lazily on the almost fallen ceiling. A rat scurried across the cracked floor as if it, too, knew the routine.Drake didn’t flinch. He was too tired.He kicked off his shoe

The classroom had settled into a quiet slide of concentration, chalk tapping gently against the board as the teacher scribbled a diagram. Drake sat still, heart drumming in his chest, but his eyes weren’t on the board. They were fixed on the classroom door. It was Thea's instruction, clearly stated. “Steve loves public attention, apologize publicly and I promise you, it's settled”The door opened.Steve Moore walked in. Late. Unbothered.Face blank, and expressionless.Not a word of apology. Not even a glance at the teacher. “Uhm.. Steve. you're late today, is everything okay?” The teacher asked. He turned back to scribbling his diagrams when he got no response from Steve. The room stilled, sensing the storm he always carried with him. His uniform shirt clung neatly to his figure, designer cologne wafting in his wake. Eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses.Drake’s breath hitched.Steve’s gaze flicked, once, and fast, towards Miguel, who didn’t return it. Miguel was busy typing somethi

"Here," Steve said, his voice smooth, mocking. He tossed something lightly into Drake's palm.Drake blinked, stared down. It was his keys that had fallen from his pocket. Just the keys.He let out a quiet, shaky breath. Relief loosened his shoulders, if only a little. Maybe they hadn’t found the journal after all. Maybe this wasn’t the nightmare he feared."Relax," Steve smirked, his lips curled like a predator who enjoyed playing with prey. "You're safe. For now."Drake didn’t speak. His voice would crack if he tried.Thea appeared at Steve's side, and together, they turned, walking out of the classroom like royalty who had finished toying with the poor, and were proud of it. The door creaked softly as it shut behind them, leaving Drake in a vacuum of fear and half-swallowed relief.The marble hallway was quiet, save for the click of Thea's designer boots echoing beside Steve's calm steps. They were heading to the reserved lounge(RL), an exclusive room hidden on the fourth floor, mea