Chapter 4.

Dom strode out of the hall with the unhurried grace of a man who never needed to look over his shoulder. Marcia lingered a heartbeat longer, her gaze fixed on Bryce like she’d just seen a ghost. Whatever she’d expected, it clearly wasn’t Dom welcoming him that easily, especially not with the manner he came in.

She didn’t speak. She simply fell into step beside Dom, her heels echoing in sharp rhythm against the marble, flanked by two guards who followed them out. Their footsteps faded, and the hall settled into a heavy, echoing silence.

Bryce was still trying to process what had just happened when Khalifa moved. His eyes were rimmed red, glistening as though he’d been holding tears back for far too long. Then, without warning, Khalifa closed the distance between them and pulled Bryce into a fierce embrace.

It wasn’t the awkward, stiff hug of acquaintances. It was desperate, like a drowning man clutching something solid. Bryce felt his own breath hitch, the sudden weight of shared blood and lost years pressing between them.

When Khalifa finally pulled back, his hands stayed on Bryce’s shoulders, gripping tight as if afraid he might vanish.

“Why are you here?” his voice was hoarse, threaded with a tremor Bryce couldn’t quite read. Maybe relief, fear, or both.

Bryce’s voice came out quieter than he meant it to.

“I just… wanted to join.”

It was a flimsy excuse, and they both knew it. He kept his eyes steady, forcing the lie to sound like truth, masking the real reason he’d fought to be here.

Khalifa studied him for a long moment, his brows knitting tighter. “You’ve always hated Dom’s family,” he said finally, his tone low, almost accusing. “So if you’re here now… something’s definitely after you.”

Bryce’s jaw tightened. “No. I’m fine. I told you—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Khalifa’s voice cracked just slightly, but his gaze never wavered. “This world,Dom’s world, it’s not like anything you’ve seen before. It’s dangerous, Bryce. It eats people alive. Once you step into it, you don’t get to step back out.”

He let out a breath, the sound heavy with dread. “If you eventually fail your first test, there’s no leaving alive. No second chances. No running home. You’ll be dead.”

Bryce’s chest tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact. “I’m not leaving. He paused then asked, ….But..what would my first test be like?”

Khalifa’s expression twisted. Fear, frustration, and something like resignation flickering across his face. He shook his head slowly, as though he already knew he wouldn’t be able to change Bryce’s mind, “Only the master knows,” he mumbled to Bryce's hearing.

He didn’t even bother arguing anymore, he’d seen that look in Bryce’s eyes before. That stubborn, locked-in defiance that nothing could pry loose. With a quiet sigh, he jerked his chin toward the corridor.

“Come on. You need a bath, a hot meal, and some rest. You look like hell.”

Bryce almost smiled, but he followed without protest. His wet boots dragged faintly over the polished floor, each step feeling louder in the hush of the hall. The faint scent of incense and steel clung to the air, this place carried its own kind of warning.

As they passed beneath the towering doors, Khalifa’s voice kept finding him. “You can still walk away, you know. No one’s chained you here yet. Before the test, there’s still time to change your mind.”

Bryce’s fingers twitched at his sides. His stomach knotted, but not because of Khalifa’s warning, because of the truth he wouldn’t admit aloud. He was afraid of Dom’s family. Afraid of the way their name carried weight like a blade, afraid of what they could do without lifting a hand.

But it was still better than going back. Better than facing Derick. Better than being found and silenced before he could even fight.

The door swung open snapping Bryce back to reality. His head had being down throughout their walk from the hall to Khalifa's room, and Bryce stepped in behind Khalifa,only to stop dead.

The room was… stunning. High walls draped in deep, wine-colored fabric, gold filigree curling along the edges of carved furniture, the scent of something expensive, spiced and another he couldn't name… hanging in the air. It felt more like a royal suite than a bedroom, warm light pooling across plush rugs and gleaming wood.

For a moment, Bryce forgot to breathe.

Then he heard it.

A muffled sound, wet, and rhythmic, almost too intimate to mistake. His gaze flicked to the far corner of the room, and his stomach turned.

One man was on his knees, mouth wrapped around hthe cock of another who stood above him, eyes shut, face twisted with a mix of strain and pleasure. They were so absorbed in each other that neither noticed the newcomer.

Khalifa froze the moment they stepped into the room.

Of all the things his younger brother could have walked in on… it had to be this.

A flicker of awkwardness crossed his face, rare for him, and almost out of place, then he cleared his throat.

“In our family,” he began quickly, his tone oddly measured, “chastity is… a heavy crime. Here, sexual exploration isn’t shameful. It’s a goal, an expectation in this part of the world.”

Bryce didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

The scene in the far corner was burning into his eyes, the kneeling man, the one standing, the obscene sounds, and no amount of cultural explanation could scrub it clean. His stomach heaved. Without a word, he bolted for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him just in time to retch into the sink.

When he finally looked up, his reflection was pale, eyes wide. He splashed water on his face, but the taste of bile wouldn’t leave.

A knock came. The door eased open, and Khalifa stepped inside, leaning casually against the frame as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You alright?” he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

Bryce, still trying to steady his breathing, blurted, “Who… who are they?”

Khalifa’s lips curved faintly. “The one kneeling? My roommate. The one standing, his boyfriend.”

Bryce’s brows knit together, the confusion written across his face almost comical if it weren’t so genuine.

“Room…roo.. roommate?”

“So I…” he hesitated, eyes searching Khalifa's, “this is… what you..and I will get to see every day?”

Bryce’s pulse lurched. Heat pricked his cheeks. His chest tightened, nausea scraping up his throat again as he peeked out through the bathroom door and saw the kneeling man trail his tongue along the other’s huge cock, unashamedly licking every drop of his sperm.