LOGINLance had one hand on the cab door when the sound of a hook clicking against metal cut through the evening noise. He turned, half-expecting trouble and found only Elison's car idling at the curb, engine humming low, the man himself watching from behind the wheel with an expression far too pleased with itself.Whatever unease had gripped Lance a moment earlier melted into something warmer. He smiled, straightened, and turned back toward his colleagues."Mr. Halat, you guys go. I'll come on my own."The teacher blinked. "How?""My husband is here." Lance was already walking, unable to keep the smile off his face as he crossed toward the black car.Elison leaned over and pushed the passenger door open without a word, waiting until Lance had settled into the seat before pulling smoothly back into traffic. Behind them, a cluster of teachers stood frozen on the curb, whispering among themselves."...Didn't know Mr. Lance was married," one murmured."That's Mr. Floris," another said."Omg,
"In front of the college," Lance said into the phone, watching the familiar black car ease up along the curb."I will pick you up later," Elison's voice came through, low and certain, the kind of voice that expected no argument."Don't." Lance's grip tightened slightly around the phone."Lan—""Please.""An—""Please," Lance pressed, softer this time, lips curving despite himself. "Can't my hubby listen to me?" He let the smallest whine slip into his voice, eyes wide even though Elison couldn't see them.There was a pause on the other end — the particular silence of a man losing an argument he hadn't wanted to win in the first place. Lance could practically hear him fighting a smile."Who am I to stop you," Elison finally relented. "You can go. But please — keep calling me.""Promise. I will miss you." Lance pressed a smile into the words, then hung up before Elison could hear just how wide that smile had grown.In the driver's seat, Elison stared at the phone for a moment longer than
The bell above the café door gave its usual half-hearted chime, and Van didn't even need to look up to know who had just walked in. That particular unhurried, self-satisfied gait had become impossible to mistake."What wou—" Van started, then lifted his eyes from the counter and saw the familiar mess of silver-white hair and the smirk that came attached to it. He sighed. "What are you doing here?""Heyy~" Mateo Stellar sauntered up to the counter like he owned the place, arms loose at his sides, eyes glinting with the particular brand of trouble he seemed to specialize in. "We meet again.""We are truly destined," he added, pressing a hand to his chest as though the universe itself had conspired to bring them together over cheap café furniture."More like my bad luck," Van muttered under his breath, already reaching for a cup he had no intention of using yet."Did you say something?""Are you a stalker or some—" Van caught himself, rolling his eyes instead of finishing the sentence. T
The café had been quiet enough for most of the afternoon, the kind of lull Van had learned to appreciate between the morning rush and the evening crowd. It didn't last. A man near the door had been lingering a beat too long, and when he finally moved to leave, Van's instincts sharpened by one too many dine-and-dash attempts over the years caught the tell before the man even reached the handle."Excuse me," Van called out.The man turned, feigning innocence. "What?""You didn't pay," Van said evenly."I did," the man insisted."No, sir, you didn't." Van gestured toward the small camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. "I can even show you."The man's expression shifted, the polite mask slipping just enough to reveal something colder underneath. He didn't argue further he simply reached into his jacket, and in one swift, violent motion, pulled out a gun.The café erupted into screams."SHUT UP AND SIT DOWN," the man barked, swinging the weapon in a wide arc across the room, forcin
"Cute," Azhael said, though the word came out flat, unconvinced, more habit than genuine observation.He slumped further into the couch cushions, dragging a hand down his face with theatrical despair. "I'm so single," he groaned, the kind of complaint that demanded sympathy he wasn't actually owed.Elison didn't even glance up from his laptop. "I just have to make a call and someone will run here with a ring," he said dryly. "Don't test me.""Bastard," Azhael muttered, but there was no real venom in it.Elison chuckled, the sound low and unbothered, before something in his own words caught up with him. He tilted his head, considering."And you called him Shadow," Azhael pointed out, gesturing vaguely at the laptop screen still paused on the grainy footage. "I guess I was wrong to assume you'd figured him out completely."Elison frowned, turning the thought over. "Do you think Lance might have a twin brother?"Azhael's groan was immediate and long-suffering. "Here we go again. I'm tire
The office was dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single desk lamp, the kind of low light Azhael always kept when the day had gone sideways. He sat across from Elison, glass in hand, his red hair catching what little light there was, watching his best friend with the careful attention of someone piecing together a puzzle he didn't yet trust."Who did you talk to before the attack?" Azhael asked, his voice quiet but pointed, the kind of question that demanded precision rather than comfort.Elison leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, replaying the hours before chaos had found him. "No one except Lance. And that conversation didn't even last a minute."Azhael's eyes narrowed slightly, filing the detail away. "And when you were being attacked—when did Shadow show up?""An hour later. Give or take."Azhael went quiet, his thumb tapping against the rim of his glass, the silence stretching just long enough to feel deliberate. Then he set the glass down with a soft click against the desk.







