COME PICK ME UP....ITS AN ORDER??

CHAPTER 4

The driver started the engine without hesitation and pulled out smoothly.

Jaxon glanced at Leonard’s cold, composed profile. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Good boy,” Jaxon teased, reaching over to ruffle Leonard’s perfectly styled hair.

Leonard jerked his head away instantly, glaring.

“Touch me again and I’ll throw you out of the car myself,” Leonard warned, voice low and edged.

“Whatever,” Jaxon rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window.

The rest of the drive passed in thick silence. No words. Just the low hum of the engine and the occasional honk from traffic. Jaxon leaned back, arms crossed, watching the city lights blur past. Leonard sat rigid beside him, jaw tight, staring straight ahead like Jaxon wasn’t even there.

Jaxon let out a soft chuckle.

Leonard’s eyes flicked over. “What’s so funny?”

Jaxon met his gaze. “Mind your business, Mr. Clifford. If I want to laugh, chuckle, or smile to myself, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Leonard snorted. “Yeah, that’s exactly how madness starts.”

Jaxon clenched his fists. “That son of a—”

The car slowed, pulling into a sleek, gated compound. The gate slid open quietly.

Jaxon opened the door and stepped out without a backward glance or a thank you.

Leonard watched him walk away until he disappeared inside.

His phone rang, breaking the quiet.

Kai’s name flashed on the screen.

“Good afternoon, babe. Come pick me up, I had such an exhausting—”

Leonard ended the call mid-sentence.

BRUCE WILSON’S STUDIO

Jaxon stepped into the sleek recording space. A soft, pulsing beat leaked from the main booth. Bruce was already there—headphones around his neck, laptop open, DAW screen glowing with a half-finished track.

“The beat’s fire,” Jaxon said, sliding into the chair beside him with a small smile.

“Yeah, been tweaking it all week. Thought we could layer your vocals over it—your flow with my production. Could be huge.” Bruce grinned, eyes lingering a second too long.

“I’m in. Let’s make something that blows up the charts. No strings—just straight heat.” Jaxon smirked, determined.

Bruce loaded the project. The room filled with a smooth, addictive melody. Jaxon started humming, scribbling lyrics on a notepad. The creative spark crackled between them—pure energy.

As Jaxon focused on the page, Bruce watched him, quietly amazed… and then not so quietly.

Jaxon felt the stare. He scoffed softly but pretended not to notice.

“Should I call you Jax… or Jaxon White?” Bruce chuckled, leaning closer.

Jaxon looked up, then burst out laughing—loud, wild, almost manic. He laughed so hard Bruce actually flinched.

“Why are you laughing like that?” Bruce asked, suddenly sweating under the AC.

“Nothing,” Jaxon winked, then went right back to writing.

Bruce pressed a hand to his chest. Damn, that laugh had nearly given him a heart attack.

He discreetly glanced down at himself.

He’d actually pissed a little from the scare.

PRIDE HIGH  

[Basketball Court – Afternoon]

The sun beat down hard, but the game didn’t slow.

“Pass it!”

The ball sailed through the air. Lionel caught it clean, dribbled once, jumped, and sank it.

Cheers erupted from the sidelines.

Lionel grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. Tall, confident, effortlessly popular—he knew every eye was on him.

He pulled off his jersey and tossed it toward the crowd.

It landed square on Jeremy’s face.

From the cheer section, Evan moved sharply—focused, precise.

Pinky stood a few steps away, flipping his hair dramatically and rolling his eyes when Evan corrected a move.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Evan said flatly.

“Please, I’ve been cheering longer than you,” Pinky scoffed.

“What are you—60?” Evan smirked.

Lionel noticed from the court and muttered, “Here we go again.”

Even though Evan was his brother, Lionel stayed out of it. He hated getting dragged into fights.

He turned to leave—but Jeremy stepped up, holding out the jersey.

“Your jersey.”

“Nah, keep it,” Lionel shrugged and walked off.

Jeremy smiled softly, folded it carefully, and tucked it into his bag.

He glanced over—Evan and Pinky’s argument had escalated. Now fists were flying.

Pinky wasn’t alone—Sab jumped in, turning it two against one.

Evan got overpowered and hit the ground hard on his backside.

“Bitch!” Pinky spat, storming off with Sab.

“My ass,” Evan winced, trying to sit up.

“You okay?” Jeremy asked, voice soft with concern.

This time, Evan didn’t freeze.

“I’m not okay—I think I broke my spine, my stomach hurts, my head’s spinning, I might have diabetes…” Evan rambled nervously, twisting his fingers.

Jeremy chuckled, then bent down and lifted him into his arms bridal-style.

“Thanks,” Evan whispered, resting his head against Jeremy’s chest.

GOLDEN ECHO MANSION  

[Kitchen]

Vincent stood at the stove, turning the knob until the flame caught. A pan warmed, oil shimmering.

He chopped, seasoned, stirred—moving with calm focus. The smell of onions, garlic, and spices slowly filled the space.

He’d taken over cooking duties ever since that incident with the temporary cook who’d tried to tamper with Jaxon’s food. No full-time staff in the kitchen anymore. Only day hires—and Vincent handled most meals himself.

He smiled faintly, remembering how Jaxon had dealt with the guy.

The door opened. Ryu walked in.

Vincent’s eyes widened slightly.

Ryu was wearing nothing but swim trunks—tight, low on his hips.

Vincent quickly looked away and focused back on the pan.

This wasn’t the first time. Ryu was clearly high again—eyes glassy, movements loose. He didn’t always know what he was doing when he got like this.

Only Vincent knew about the drug use. He’d never told the others. Never planned to. It would destroy Ryu’s career—and maybe the group.

CLIFFORD MANSION  

[Leonard’s Room]

Leonard sat in low light, wearing only joggers. Window cracked. Smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers.

The room was silent, but his mind wasn’t.

Loneliness pressed in heavier than usual—no one to talk to, no one to let the walls down with.

He took a long drag, smirking bitterly at nothing.

A soft knock.

Before he could respond, the door opened. Kai stepped in, pausing when he saw Leonard—bare chest, smoke drifting.

Kai’s eyes dropped, lingering.

Leonard scoffed at the obvious stare.

“Babe,” Kai pouted, stepping close and wrapping his arms around him, hands roaming over Leonard’s skin.

Leonard felt… nothing. He just watched, face blank.

Kai kissed his collarbone, trailed lower—down his abs, his navel.

He dropped to his knees, fingers hooking into the waistband of Leonard’s joggers.

Leonard’s phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number:

COME PICK ME UP FROM BRUCE’S STUDIO. IT’S AN ORDER.

Only one person had the nerve to text him like that.

Jaxon.

Leonard pulled his joggers back up, grabbed a black T-shirt, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Kai asked, arms folded.

“Somewhere important.”

TO BE CONTINUED...