JAY'S POV —
The condo is silent when I return.
Not empty—
silent.
That dangerous kind of quiet that settles only after violence has finished speaking.
I close the door behind me, lock it, double-check the bolt without thinking. Muscle memory. Habit. Survival. The city hums outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, neon and rain and traffic bleeding into one restless pulse.
I pour myself a drink.
Whiskey. Neat.
The glass is cold against my palm as I walk to the window and stare out over Manila. From up here, it looks peaceful. Orderly. Like it hasn't swallowed people whole and spat them out different.
I take a slow sip.
My reflection stares back from the glass—eyes sharper, face calm, mouth set like mercy was never an option to begin with.
Ram is dead.
Jason won't walk straight again.
Section E is alive.
That should be enough.
It isn't.
The door clicks open behind me.
I don't turn.
"Did they reach safely?" I ask.
"Yes."
Damian's voice is steady. Controlled. He pours himself a drink without asking, moves like this place is as familiar to him as it is to me.
"I followed them for three blocks," he adds. "Keifer nearly lost it."
That gets a breathless laugh out of me. Low. Dark.
"Figures."
"He looked ready to kill me," Damian continues dryly. "Which is impressive, considering he could barely stand."
I finally turn toward him, lifting my glass in mock salute. "Congratulations. You made the Watson jealous."
He smirks. "You enjoy that too much."
"Maybe."
Silence settles between us—not awkward. Earned.
Damian lights a cigar. The flame briefly illuminates his face, carving shadows into something sharp and dangerous. He hands me one. I take it, light it off his, inhale slow.
Smoke curls upward, thick and lazy.
"The Scenario is clean," he says. "No tails. No witnesses those were are dead. "
"Good."
He studies me then, more carefully. "You didn't hesitate in front of him today jay.."
"I know ," I say simply. "and I never will again."
His phone buzzes.
Once.
Twice.
He glances down, then snorts. "You're going to love this."
I arch a brow.
"Someone's trying to hack your location," he says. "Crude method. Amateur work."
I let out a short laugh. "Edrix."
"And Rory," he adds. "Together. Sloppy."
"Keifer's idea," I murmur.
Damian nods. "Obviously."
I take another drag of my cigar, watching the city through smoke. "Block them. No loose ends."
"Already done."
We stand there a moment longer, two silhouettes carved against glass and skyline, until Damian speaks again.
"So," he says casually, like he's asking about dinner plans. "When are you going back to school?"
"Tomorrow,and you are going to enroll."
He freezes mid-sip.
Slowly lowers the glass.
"Jay," he says carefully, "I passed high school two years ago."
"I know."
He stares at me. "Then why—"
"Because," I interrupt, finally looking straight at him, " I don't intend to be alone there even when I know Keifer is there,I can't Damian I'm not ready..."
Something shifts in his expression. The teasing fades. Something heavier takes its place.
"I forgot," he says quietly. "Sorry."
I shrug. "Doesn't matter."
It does.
But I don't say that.
He exhales, then a grin breaks through. "Fine. I'll enroll."
I blink. "You will?"
"yeah in the same class as you section E," he adds smoothly. "Same class. Same chaos."
I tilt my head. "You serious?"
"Deadly." He straightens, eyes glinting. "Don't worry. My entry will be dazzling."
I snort despite myself. "You're insufferable."
"You love it."
"Barely."
"One more thing, Keifer knows you are my "boyfriend" so try to... be safe" I chuckled...
"Relax Jay Jay , it's not my first rodeo, he'll have the best show ever ...." He said with a wink and smirk that lingered long enough.
He drains his glass, crushes the cigar out cleanly. At the door, he pauses.
"Try to sleep," he says. "Tomorrow's going to be… interesting."
"Everything is," I reply.
The door closes behind him.
Alone again.
I change slowly—black discarded for soft cotton, gun locked away, the smell of smoke still clinging to my skin. When I lie down, the ceiling feels too close.
Images flicker uninvited.
Gunfire.
Blood.
Keifer's eyes when he saw me.
I close my eyes harder.
London taught me how to bleed quietly.
Manila?
Manila reminds me why I learned.
Sleep takes me eventually—
Not gentle.
Not kind.
But complete.
And tomorrow—
Tomorrow, I walk back into the past
with my eyes open
and my finger nowhere near the trigger.
KEIFER & SECTION E — AFTER THE GUNSMOKE
The ride home is too quiet.
Not the comfortable kind.
The kind that presses against your ears until your thoughts get loud enough to hurt.
No one cracks a joke. No one argues. No one pretends this was just another fight that got out of hand.
Blood dries stiff on knuckles. Bruises bloom under sleeves. Every bump in the road sends a dull ache through bone.
They're alive.
That's the miracle.
Cin breaks the silence first, voice hoarse. "We would've died."
No one contradicts him.
Felix stares out the window, jaw tight. "She didn't even blink."
Yuri sits rigid, eyes fixed ahead. "She didn't come to save us."
That lands heavier.
"She came to finish it," Rory adds quietly.
Keifer doesn't speak.
He's sitting in the back, head leaned against the glass, watching streetlights smear into gold lines. His ribs scream every time he breathes too deep. His head throbs where the blow landed earlier.
None of it compares to the weight in his chest.
Jay.
The way she walked in. The way the room bent around her. The way she looked at him like—
Like he was already part of the past.
His phone vibrates.
He doesn't need to check to know who it is.
Edrix: We tried. Her firewall's insane. She blocked us clean.
Keifer types back with stiff fingers.
Keifer: I figured. Stand down.
A pause.
Edrix: She was watching us, wasn't she?
Keifer: Yeah.
He slips the phone back into his pocket.
Cin glances over. "You okay?"
Keifer nods automatically. "Yeah."
Lie.
They reach their respective homes one by one. Shoulder claps. Quiet promises. Unspoken relief.
By the time Keifer steps into his house, it's past midnight.
The lights are off.
Too still.
He locks the door behind him and just… stands there for a moment.
Breathing.
The image won't leave his head.
Jay in black leather. Gun steady. Voice cold enough to freeze bone.
He strips off his jacket, tosses it aside, washes the blood from his hands until the sink runs clear. Still feels dirty.
In bed, he stares at the ceiling.
Minutes pass.
An hour.
Sleep doesn't come.
Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her walking away. Not looking back. Telling Damian to take them home safely.
Not staying.
Not choosing.
His chest tightens.
He rolls onto his side, fists clenched.
"I did this," he whispers into the dark.
Pushed her away. Told himself it was protection. Watched her turn into something sharper than the world ever deserved.
And the worst part?
She survived it.
She adapted.
She didn't need him anymore.
Outside, the city keeps breathing.
Inside, Keifer Watson doesn't sleep.
Because some wars don't end with gunfire—
They end when the person you love learns how to live without you....