JAY'S POV —
The plane lands without ceremony.
No applause. No welcome.
Just a dull thud against the runway—metal kissing ground like it's always known where it belongs.
Manila.
The moment I step out, heat wraps around me. Thicker than London. Wetter. Familiar in a way that sinks under the skin instead of brushing past it. The air smells like fuel, dust, and unfinished business.
My driver doesn't speak. He doesn't need to.
The condo door opens with a soft click.
And for the first time in weeks—
I pause.
The lights come on automatically. Warm. Low. Gold spilling across marble floors and dark wood. Everything is exactly where I left it. Too exactly.
For a second, something tightens in my chest.
Not weakness.
Memory.
This place still remembers me as someone softer. Someone who came home exhausted and barefoot, tossing keys on the counter. Someone who laughed here. Bled here. Loved here.
I close the door behind me.
Lock it.
Lean back against it and exhale.
Just once.
Then I straighten.
That girl doesn't live here anymore.
Later, I sit on the edge of the couch, heels discarded, gun resting beside me. My phone lights up.
Damian:
Ram and Jason know you're back.
I don't smile.
I type back instead.
Jay:
Good. Let's end it tonight.
Eyes on them. Always.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Then—
Damian:
I'll handle it.
I look around the condo once more.
Warmth doesn't mean safety.
It just means the knife hurts more when it goes in.
---
KEIFER'S POV —
The classroom is loud.
Too loud.
Someone's arguing. Someone's laughing. Sir Alvin is pretending not to notice. Section E is half-present, half-bored, half-ready for violence like always.
I'm leaning back in my chair when my phone vibrates.
Once.
I glance down.
Ram:
You still breathing, Watson?
Another fight. Tonight.
My jaw tightens.
I'm tired.
Tired of threats.
Tired of watching over my brother's shoulder.
Tired of waiting for the knife to finally drop.
I type back without thinking too hard.
Keifer:
Tonight. Let's end it.
I slide the phone back into my pocket and stand.
Cin looks up immediately. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I lie. "Everything."
They read it anyway.
We don't do speeches. We never have.
"Meet tonight with ram more like a fight...," I say. "Abandoned building near the docks."
Felix cracks his neck. "Finally."
Yuri's eyes darken. "It won't be clean."
"It never is," I reply.
----
The place smells like rust and old rain.
Concrete walls cracked like broken bones. Windows shattered long ago. Shadows cling to corners like they're alive.
We barely step inside before—
Pain explodes behind my eyes.
Something hard connects with my skull.
Once.
Twice.
The world tilts violently.
I hear bodies hitting the floor. Someone groans. Someone curses.
I try to get up.
Fail.
Boots crunch closer.
Ram's laughter cuts through the haze.
"Well," he drawls. "That was easier than expected."
Jason steps out beside him, grinning like this is a game. His men fan out, guns loose in their hands.
We fight anyway.
Even dizzy. Even bleeding.
Cin lands a punch. Felix tackles someone. Yuri slashes with a broken piece of metal. I get one solid hit in before something crashes into my ribs and knocks the breath from my lungs.
It's not enough.
Never is when you're outnumbered and already half-dead.
They tie us up, rough and careless, shoving us into one corner. We're visible—but not enough for passing eyes to notice.
Ram crouches in front of me, grips my chin hard enough to bruise.
"You should've stayed in London," he says. "You and your pretty secrets."
I spit blood at his feet.
He laughs.
Then—
He freezes.
Footsteps echo from the entrance.
Slow.
Deliberate.
He straightens. "What the—"
The doors creak open.
And the air changes.
She walks in like the building belongs to her.
Black leather coat brushing against bare thighs. Shorts sharp and unforgiving. Heels clicking against concrete like a countdown. Hair dark. Eyes colder than anything in this room.
Jay.
Behind her, Damian and armed men fan out smoothly—efficient, professional, lethal.
Ram's smirk returns. "Well, look at this," he says lazily. "Princess decided to join."
She doesn't look at him.
Not yet.
Her gaze finds me instead.
And something tightens in my chest that has nothing to do with pain.
She looks—
Different.
Not broken.
Not angry.
Finished.
Damian steps forward. "Leave them," he says flatly. "Now."
Ram chuckles. "You think you can walk in here and take control?"
Jay finally turns her head.
Slow.
Measured.
Her eyes settle on Ram like a loaded gun.
"You're standing in my city," she says softly. "Touching my problems."
She takes a step closer.
"You don't get to smirk."
Ram's smile falters—just a little.
She stops a few feet away, tilts her head.
"You wanted a war," she continues. "Congratulations."
Her hand lifts.
The room goes very, very quiet.
"Chapter closed."
Damian raises his gun.
And I know—
Whatever happens next—
Nothing will ever be the same again.
JAY'S POV —
The first shot isn't loud.
It's decisive.
The sound cracks through the building like bone snapping—sharp, final. Damian fires first, clean and controlled, dropping the man closest to Ram before his brain can catch up to reality.
Then I move.
My gun comes up smoothly. No hesitation. No trembling.
I shoot.
Once—into the shoulder of the man reaching for Felix.
Twice—into the knee of another rushing Yuri.
A third shot explodes against concrete inches from Ram's head.
He stumbles back, panic finally bleeding through bravado.
The room erupts.
Gunfire. Screams. Chaos ripping through stale air.
My men don't miss.
They move like they were trained for this exact geometry—angles covered, exits blocked, targets neutralized with brutal efficiency. Bodies hit the ground. Blood slicks the concrete in dark, spreading stains.
Section E watches.
Helpless.
Cin's eyes are wide, fixed on me like I'm a stranger wearing someone he used to know. Felix swears under his breath. Yuri's jaw tightens—not in fear, but recognition.
They've seen violence.
They've never seen this.
Ram scrambles backward, slipping in blood, crawling like the coward he's always been.
"No—wait—Jay—" he pants. "We can talk—"
I walk toward him.
Each heel strike is slow. Measured.
I crouch in front of him, gun pressed lightly to his forehead.
"This," I say calmly, "was you talking."
I fire.
Silence crashes down afterward—heavy, ringing, absolute.
Smoke curls lazily from the barrel. My heartbeat stays even.
I straighten, turning away from the bodies like they're already irrelevant.
"Untie them," I tell Damian without looking back.
My men move immediately.
I glance once—just once—toward Keifer.
Our eyes meet.
And for a split second, something old flickers. Pain. Memory. The ghost of a girl who once would've run to him.
Then I turn away.
"Get them home safely," I say to Damian. "Every one of them."
He nods. "I'll handle it."
I walk out.
No speeches. No explanations.
The night swallows me whole.
---
KEIFER'S POV —
The ropes fall away.
My wrists burn. My head throbs. But none of that matters.
Because she's gone.
I stagger to my feet just in time to see the back of her coat disappearing through the doorway. I take a step forward without thinking.
Damian intercepts me.
"Don't," he says quietly.
I shove his hand away.
The words spill before I can stop them. "You touched her."
His eyes sharpen—not angry. Understanding.
"She let me," he replies evenly. "And you lost that right the day she stopped being yours."
The words hit harder than any punch tonight.
I look past him.
At the blood.
At Ram's body.
At the truth bleeding all over the floor.
She did this.
For us.
For herself.
For a world I never fully understood.
Damian turns to his men, issuing orders, his voice all command now. "Get them treated. Get them home. No one speaks about tonight."
Then he looks back at me.
"She didn't come here to see you," he says. "She came to end something."
I swallow.
I want to run after her.
God, I want to.
But my feet don't move.
Because the last time I reached for her—
She didn't look back.
Damian leaves.
The building empties.
And I stand there, alone with the echo of gunfire and the memory of a woman who walked into hell for me—
And walked out without me.
Some wars rot.
Others burn everything they touch.
And Jay?
She learned how to survive the fire.