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CHAPTER FOUR
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2026-02-19 14:47:32Lance worked tirelessly, finding any side hustle he could, working all day without sleep.
Even with all that he didn't make anything close to what he owed but he kept on working, his muscles protested but he didn't stop, he couldn't. One of those days, Lance was even tempted to steal, to rob someone, just to get easy and fast money. The thought crossed his mind more than once, especially when desperation weighed heavy on him. At one point, he found himself close to a woman inside a store, a thick bundle of cash visible in her bag. It would have been quick and no one would have noticed. But he stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. That wasn’t the kind of person he was, no matter how desperate things had become. Even with everything closing in on him, he still had lines he refused to cross. He had been missing classes and had several missed calls from Ylva and his other friends. They were all worried, But every time he finally picked up a call or replied to a text, he reassured them that he was fine, that everything was under control. It was a lie he repeated so often it almost started to sound believable It was the last day of the due payment, he hadn't gotten a lot of money but he still summoned up the courage to go back to the warehouse. When the man from earlier saw the amount Lance had he scoffed, “What am I meant to do with this?”. He threw the bag of money to the side. “Please just take it and let Tamera go, take me instead please, I'm begging you just let my sister go" Lance pled all the fire in his eyes completely gone, leaving him open and vulnerable. “You know it's really nice seeing you beg like this, the once prideful Lance” the man continued He stepped closer to Lance looking him up to down "You a tall young man hm,I'm guessing about 6’4 maybe more and you're built well”. Lance gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?" “You do have one option to pay a back although I really don't think it is gonna work in your favor”. “I'll do anything, please” Lance responded desperately The man looked at Lance for a moment before speaking up. “Well, as everyone knows, I’m not the real boss around here,” the man said. “We have our top dog. I could get you in contact with the main man, although I highly doubt he’ll even let you breathe near him.” “Top dog?” Lance asked. “He’s the man behind everything we do, and one of the cruelest, if I do say so myself,” the man replied. “I’m his right hand. I deal with lowly pests like you so he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty.” Lance knew anyone involved in this world was dangerous, but did he really have a choice? It was either this… or Tamera died. “I’ll do it,” he said firmly. Atta boy. You’ve got some guts,” the man said with a grin. The other men around him mirrored the expression. “We can take you to meet him right now. Oh, this ought to be fun.” All the men began laughing, Lance didn't know why but he had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling. Before Lance could even process what was happening, he was shoved into a car and driven off to God knows where. His chest tightened as anxiety clawed at him, fear settling deep in his bones. When the car finally stopped, they were in front of a massive house. It was modern, sleek, and painfully elegant. Inside, one of the men disappeared into another room. Lance looked around. The interior wasn’t heavily furnished, which told him the place wasn’t used often, but it was still more beautiful than most houses he had ever seen. Minutes later, the man returned, his expression annoyed. “The boss is pissed we’re bothering him with a nobody,” he said. “He thinks a measly amount like this isn’t worth his time.” Lance furrowed his brows. “Measly? They were talking about a million. Who exactly is this guy?” he thought. “But he said he’ll come out shortly,” the man added. Lance let out a shaky breath, unsure whether to feel relieved or even more terrified. The wait felt endless. His hands trembled, but he forced himself to stay still. He needed to do this. For Tamera. Finally, after nearly half an hour, footsteps approached. Slow. Measured. Deliberate. Each step sent a fresh wave of dread through him. The men roughly forced Lance down onto his knees as the footsteps grew closer. His gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it. The footsteps stopped right in front of him. All he could see were the shoes, polished, expensive, it looked like it cost more than his entire life. “This is the debtor?” the boss said Lance froze. That voice. His eyes widened. He had heard it before. Somewhere. Somewhere too familiar. Slowly, he lifted his gaze. And when his eyes locked onto the boss, it felt like his entire world stopped.
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The estate was mostly quiet by the time Lance came back.Rain had started sometime after midnight, water sliding down the massive windows in thin streams while the guards outside rotated shifts under the dim courtyard lights. Most of the house had gone still hours ago.Ragnar was still awake.Of course he was.He sat in his office with untouched documents spread across the desk, though his attention hadn’t truly been on work for the last hour. His mind kept circling back to Lance leaving with Marcus earlier that evening.The club.The drinking.Marcus’s idea of relaxation.Ragnar already hated it.A knock came at the office door before it slowly opened.One of the guards stepped in carefully.“Sir… Lance is back.”Ragnar looked up immediately.Something in the guard’s expression made his eyes narrow.“What happened.”“He’s drunk.”A pause.Then the guard added carefully, “Very drunk.”Ragnar exhaled once through his nose before standing.That alone was irritating enough. Lance rarely
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Ragnar’s room was quiet, but unlike the rest of the estate, this silence wasn’t tense.It was suffocating.The kind that pressed against his ribs the longer he sat in it.Rain tapped softly against the windows overlooking the grounds, the dim light from outside spilling faintly across the dark wood of the room. Papers sat abandoned across his desk, untouched for over an hour now. His drink had gone cold beside them.None of it mattered.Because his mind kept circling back to the same person.Lance.Or whatever was left of him.Ragnar leaned back slowly in his chair, fingers pressing against his temple as exhaustion settled deeper into his bones. He rarely allowed himself moments like this. Sitting still meant thinking too much, and thinking too much lately always ended badly.Especially when it came to Lance.He could still see him clearly from earlier.The blood on the corridor floor.The guard choking on his own throat.That grin on Lance’s face after doing it.Oops.Like it was fun
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The door clicked shut behind Jungwoo. For a few seconds, he didn’t move. One hand remained on the handle, fingers curled there loosely, as if he could still feel the heat of the room through the wood. The corridor was quiet, long and dimly lit, the kind of silence that usually calmed people. It did nothing for him. His breathing was slower than it should have been. Too measured. Too controlled for what was happening underneath. Then something in his face shifted. The polished amusement he wore so easily cracked at the edges, revealing something sharper beneath it. His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as the last few minutes replayed themselves with cruel clarity. Lance’s hand around his throat. The sudden force of being driven into the floor. The look in his eyes when he did it. Not hesitation. Not confusion. Something feral. Something that had learned violence so deeply it now lived in his bones. Jungwoo bit down hard on his lower lip. Hard enough to
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Lance’s room was dark except for the narrow strip of moonlight slipping through the curtains.He hadn’t bothered turning the lights on.Darkness made more sense lately.It matched the inside of his head better than anything bright ever could.He sat on the floor beside the bed, knees drawn close, one arm wrapped across his stomach while the other hand dug into the side of his skull hard enough to leave crescent marks. His breathing came unevenly, not frantic, not weak—just strained, like every breath had to fight its way through something lodged in his chest.The voices were back.Not voices in the ordinary sense.Not ghosts.Not madness the way stories described it.They were memories sharpened into sound.Marcus barking orders in that cold amused tone.Men screaming from pain, from fear, from the realization no one was coming to help them.The crack of bone.The wet noise steel made when it entered flesh.His own laughter, louder than the rest.That one always sickened him most.Bec
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The club was built to look expensive.Dark marble floors, low gold lighting, music heavy enough to shake the walls, people dressed like they had never known fear. On the surface it was luxury.Underneath it, everyone important knew what it really was.A distribution point.Money upstairs.Drugs downstairs.Bodies somewhere in between.Ragnar arrived first with two men behind him, expression unreadable as always. He hated places like this—too loud, too crowded, too many angles to watch at once. But Marcus had given direct orders.Go with Lance. Collect the shipment. No mistakes.That alone had irritated him.Because Marcus knew exactly what he was doing by forcing them together.Ragnar stepped through the VIP corridor and immediately saw him.Lance stood near the bar like he owned the room.Black shirt half-open at the throat, sleeves rolled to reveal tattooed forearms, a chain catching the dim light. He looked older than his years now. Harder. Sharper. The softness that used to live i
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Ylva smiled as the man wrapped his arms around her too.“How are you, my baby girl?” he finally spoke, his voice deep and commanding, the kind of voice that made everyone in the hall instinctively sit up straighter.Ylva chuckled, shaking her head. “Grandpa, I’m no longer a kid. Stop calling me th
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The quarters were quiet except for the faint hum of the old air conditioner. Lance sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, every muscle stiff from the day’s training. His hands ached, his body felt heavy, but the worst part wasn’t the pain, it was the knot in his chest, the dread he could
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