CHAPTER 12: SPECIAL GUEST

It was Saturday, which meant it was time for our so-called "high school reunion party."

My outfit was pretty basic. I wore a black long-sleeved button-down paired with loose black trousers and black sneakers.

It was already 7:30 P.M., but I was still pacing around my apartment, staring blankly into the tiny, cracked mirror in my room. Should I actually go, or should I just stay home?

Then again... the money. The sweet, sweet cash I was promised just for showing up could easily cover this month's loan shark payment. I wouldn't have to worry about Antonio choking me out again, and I’d even have enough left over to kickstart next month's payment.

I ran a hand through my hair and let out a heavy sigh. Screw it. No backing out now.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, pulled up the address Stephen had texted me, and practically sprinted down the stairs.

I hopped onto my motorcycle and kicked the starter. Since I had zero clue where the place was, I pulled up G****e Maps and let GPS guide me through the night.

When I finally arrived up, I texted Stephen to let him know I was outside. A massive iron gate towered over the entrance, but I couldn't even see a house—just endless, crazy-expensive manicured gardens and giant trees. The security guard at the gate gave me a quick nod and told me to just follow the paved driveway.

I revved my engine and rode down the winding path. It took a solid couple of minutes before a massive, jaw-dropping mansion finally came into view.

Wow. I honestly thought we were meeting at a high-end resort or some fancy restaurant, not a literal palace.

Must be nice being filthy rich. I had no idea who actually owned this place. Was it Stephen? If it was, the guy was loaded beyond belief.

A second set of security guards opened the mansion’s main doors and ushered me inside.

The moment I stepped through the foyer, a thick, suffocating wave of mixed pheromones hit me like a freight train. The main living room was an absolute madhouse—packed with Omegas and Alphas aggressively making out on the couches, and worst of all, some were actively hooking up right there on the rug. The entire floor was drenched in a chaotic mess of heavy pheromones.

I instantly pulled out a cigarette, flicked my lighter, and took a deep drag, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke to block the stench.

Holy crap. What kind of degenerate nightmare did I just walk into? Is this a reunion or a straight-up mating frenzy?!

It was definitely a Pheromone Party—a place where people dumped their scents into the air to force a compatibility match.

I took another quick drag. Fuck. If I stay down here any longer, this air is gonna trigger my system and force me into heat right on the spot.

I was literally about to turn around and run for the hills when my phone buzzed in my hand.

A text from Stephen.

[Head up to the 2nd floor. First room.]

Tsk. Point of no return.

I sprinted up the grand staircase and found the door. Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open.

The room was huge, airy, and blessed with actual clean oxygen—a stark contrast to the absolute mess downstairs.

I took a few steps inside and spotted a giant leather sectional where a group of guys were lounging. They were so absorbed in their own conversation that nobody even noticed me walk in.

"...and then he literally tripped me into my own car!" Stephen’s voice echoed proudly. "My head hit the steering wheel so hard I saw stars!"

"No way!" one of his buddies laughed. "And then what?"

"Then he reached into my back pocket and robbed the cash clean out of my wallet!"

The whole group burst out laughing. "That's wild!"

"Dude, what happened next?!"

I pulled the cigarette from my lips and exhaled slowly.

"And then I killed him" I interrupted smoothly, cutting through their laughter. "So you're actually talking to a ghost right now."

The room went dead silent. Everyone whipped their heads toward me. Stephen’s eyes practically popped out of his sockets when he saw me leaning casually against the doorframe.

"Neo!" he gasped.

"I didn't realize I was getting paid to be the main topic of your gossip circle," I said, raising an eyebrow.

Stephen jumped up from the couch, a broad grin breaking across his face. "Man! It's not what you think!"

"Oh, shut up. Save the explanation."

He threw a heavy arm around my shoulders, steering me toward the couch. "Bro, I honestly thought you flaked," he whispered under his breath.

"If I wasn't dead broke, I would've," I whispered back deadpan.

Stephen burst out laughing. As we reached the couches, a guy with a silver mullet, an earring, and arm tattoos, giving off heavy 'wannabe bad boy' energy—leaned back and smirked.

"Yo, Neo! You remember me?"

"Who are you?" I shot back instantly.

Stephen wheezed. "Told you guys! He doesn't remember a single one of you!"

Mullet-boy clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow, bro. Out of everyone, you forgot us?"

I arched an eyebrow, unbothered. "Why? Was there a reason I should've?"

The guys erupted into loud cheers. "WOAH! SAVAGE!"

"HERE COMES THE SAVAGE KING!"

"Are you serious though? Did you get amnesia or something?" asked the guy sitting next to Mullet-boy.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I snapped back.

Amnesia? Honestly, I wished that were the case. But looking at these faces, not a single one rang a bell. I knew for a fact this wasn't natural memory loss—it was the brain-rotting side effect of the heavy suppressants I’d been popping for years.

"You really don't remember me? I'm Marcus!" the guy insisted. "The guy you punched in the cafeteria back in high school!"

The room dissolved into laughter again, and Mullet-boy slapped Marcus on the back of the head. "Bro, out of all the memories, that's the one you bring up?!"

"I thought it might jog his memory!"

If anything, that makes it harder. I punched so many people in that cafeteria, how am I supposed to remember his specific face?

I crossed my arms and stared at them silently. There were three guys sitting across from me, with Stephen parked right next to me on the couch.

"So, Neo, how've you been?" Mullet-boy asked—whose name I still didn't care to know. "Stephen told us you're working as a parking attendant at some club?" He chuckled patronizingly. "And we heard you only showed up tonight because Stephen paid you off. Man, don't be his lapdog. Come work for me instead—I'll double whatever chump change he's throwing at you."

Marcus shoved him aside. "Don't listen to Jeno! Work for me!" He pointed proudly to his chest. "My personal driver just retired. Want to apply?"

A dark, dangerous heat began to boil in my chest.

So that was the game. They didn't invite me here for a friendly reunion, they invited me so they could flex their money and look down on me. They treated me like a charity case, using my financial struggles to stroke their own inflated egos.

Yeah, I need cash. But I never said I was anybody's damn servant.

"Hey, knock it off, guys," the third guy sitting on the end spoke up. He hadn't said much, but his eyes carried an arrogant, condescending smirk that was far more infuriating than the other two. "Look at Neo. Do you really think he'd bow down to anyone? Sure, his tax bracket changed, but his trash attitude is still the exact same."

My jaw clenched tight.

"Still as arrogant as ever," he continued with a sneer. "Acting like he's some big shot just because he graced us with his presence."

"What did you just say?" I spat out, my temper finally snapping.

He just flashed me a mockingly calm smile. "It was just a joke, man. Chill out."

My hands curled into tight, trembling fists inside my pockets.

A joke? Do I look like a clown to you? Joke my ass.

Stephen quickly threw an arm over my shoulder, trying to diffuse the tension. "Hey, let's just take it easy today, alright? Let's make this reunion memorable."

The arrogant guy smirked. "Yeah, we're all just chilling, right, Neo?"

I stayed silent, glaring daggers at him. God, this guy is a total pro at pushing my buttons.

"Wait, where's Alejandro?" Stephen asked, breaking the standoff.

"He's on his way up with a guest," Jeno replied.

"Who?"

"Mr. MVP himself."

"Woah, seriously?!" Marcus gasped, eyes wide.

My ears perked up at the word MVP. A dreadful, sinking feeling suddenly settled in the pit of my stomach.

"Yo, guys!" a voice boomed from the doorway.

Everyone turned around to greet the newcomers—except me. Whoever it was, I couldn't care less.

“Bro, what took you so long? We almost finished all the vodka without you!” Stephen called out.

"Sorry, man. Brought a special guest."

The guy named Alejandro walked in and took a seat on the opposite couch. But my attention wasn't focused there—it was on the man with him. Even though he was wearing a mask, I recognized him instantly.

None other than that bastard, Juan.

Motherfucker what the hell is he doing here?