Williams lay sprawled across the hotel bed, one arm dangling over the edge, his breath slow and uneven. Sleep had claimed him like a thief in the night, and for once, he didn’t resist. But the shrill vibration of his phone shattered the fragile calm. The device buzzed insistently on the nightstand, rattling against the wood. Groaning, he rolled over, fumbling until his hand closed around it. He pressed the screen without looking, squinting against the harsh light. His heart sank when he saw the name. Mr. Gabriel. His father. Williams forced his voice into something steady. “Hello, Father.” “Yes, hello,” came the deep reply. No greeting, no softness, just business wrapped in authority. “There’s something I want us to talk about, together with the manager of the hotel you’re assigned to.” Williams swallowed. “Okay.” “I’m coming to the hotel so we can discuss.” He hesitated. “What time should I expect you?” “Fifty minutes is fine.” “Alright.” The line went dead, leaving behind only the b
The whiskey glass remained untouched. Hale’s voice still echoed in his ear long after the call ended, every syllable deliberate, heavy with consequence. “I have him.” Three words, so simple but they carried the weight of answers, of cracks in the wall Williams had been holding upright since the blood had stained the Orlen’s floor.. He stood at his office window, the city stretching beneath him like veins of gold and shadow. His reflection stared back at him in the glass. Composed, flawless, unreadable. Exactly what the Thornes demanded. And yet, under the reflection, a storm was clawing. Hale never called without results. That meant the waiting was over. That meant the blade could finally be pointed at the throat of whoever thought they could play games in his house.The door opened without knock. Hale entered first, followed by two of his men dragging the body of a man between them. Caleb. He instantly recognised. The valet. Brown hair, jaw slack with exhaustion, eyes wide with the p
The sun had already shifted. Cars came and went, engines humming, brakes sighing, the valet tent buzzing with the rhythm of service. Kyle leaned against one of the tent’s poles, the metal pressing into his shoulder as he half-watched his partner jog off with a guest’s car. He thought of the emergency meeting. His head was filled with too much. The way every staff had looked at one another like suspects, the flicker of tension in Williams Thorne’s sharp eyes as he’d taken control of the room. Now, Kyle needed a break. A real one. No plotting, no paranoia. Just a moment to breathe and pass as the man everyone thought he was: another hotel valet, broke, tired, surviving shift to shift.“Bro, I swear if one more guest throws me their car key like I’m a dog catching a bone, I’ll lose it,” Jamal muttered beside him. Jamal was twenty-three, sharp-tongued, with a permanent smirk that made even complaints sound like jokes. “You’ll lose it and then lose your job,” Eric, one of the bellboys, sho
~ Kyle ~ As soon as Kyle got home from the emergency meeting for all staff, he kicked his shoes off and let them land wherever gravity wanted. The feeling in his chest pressed heavier than his own limbs, so he dropped himself onto the edge of the bed. His mattress creaked under the sudden slump, a reminder of its age, of his life, of how much he had given up just to get here. “An incident?” His lips curled, a humorless sound lodged in his throat. The hotel manager’s words still echoed in his head. “The Thornes don’t want a single misstep. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. We run tight, people. One slip, and we bleed. Everyone, stay sharp.” Kyle let the words settle like poison. His gaze drifted toward the cracked ceiling, where the fan rotated lazily, slicing the silence into fragments. “So I’m not the only one that needs to bring the Thornes down? Or is it the hotel itself?” he muttered. “What do they really want?” He thought to himself. His brows furrowed. He pulled at the but
Awake, Williams found himself sprawled across his bed. For a moment, disorientation clouded his mind, how had he gotten here? Then clarity returned. Josh must have carried me in. Loyal as always. A smile tugged at his lips. If the boy hadn’t proven his worth countless times, Williams would have discarded him long ago. Maybe loyalty deserved a reward. He rubbed his neck, eyes catching his own reflection in the tall mirror across the room. His gaze dropped, lingering briefly on the hard evidence pressing against his pants. The clock on the wall glowed 6:00 a.m. Josh usually arrived by seven. The door creaked open. “Sir, do you need anything?” Williams arched a brow. Surprising. He hadn’t expected him this early. He beckoned Josh closer. The boy obeyed, quietly. When Josh knelt down. Williams let the moment unfold without hesitation with his hands tugging at the strands of Josh’s hair. Later, steam curled from the bathroom as Williams emerged, his body scrubbed clean, his mind at ease
The car ride home was quieter than the drive earlier. The city had settled into a half-forgotten lull, neon lights flickering against wet asphalt like scattered jewels. Williams didn’t speak. He let the hum of the engine, the occasional turn of the wheel, and Josh’s unassuming presence fill the silence. By now, his body carried the weight of the evening: the hotel lobby, Caleb’s blood, the guards’ panic, Gabriel’s scrutiny, and the endless calculations of risk and consequence. By the time the car pulled into the garage, Williams’ mind had gone through every possible scenario a dozen times. His father’s questions, his father’s expectations, and the shadow of what had happened at the Orlen played like relentless echoes. Even now, the image of the valet, young, so fragile, yet marked with a message clung to him. Josh opened the door without waiting, the quiet efficiency that had always comforted Williams acting as a buffer against the chaotic swirl inside his head. Williams stepped o