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The plan that’s been forming in my mind is dangerous—fraught with risk and shadows.
Dexter and Brandon think they're playing chess with pawns and kings, but they don't realize who they're up against. Theydon't know that I've been preparing for this game long before they made their first move.
Kristine stirs beside me, her eyes fluttering open to meet mine. “Ethan?” Her voice is laced with vulnerability.
“I'm here,” I whisper back.
She searches my face, finding the silent determination etched in my features. “You have a plan,” she states more than asks.
I nod slowly, squeezing her hand as reassurance. “One that ends this,” I say with conviction. “One that brings Asher back home where he belongs.”
Tears glisten in Kristine's eyes as she understands the gravity of what I'm saying—the lengths I'm willing to go for her and her son.
“Thank you,” she breathes out, the words filled with so much emotion that they nearly choke me.
“Don't thank me yet,” I reply softly. “Just promise me you'll hold onto hope.”
She nods fiercely, resolve flashing in her eyes—eyes that have seen too much but still look forward with courage.
As the sun sets and casts the room in an orange hue, it's time for me to act—to step into the role I've been forced to play. With one last look at Kristine’s face—peaceful yet poised—I slip from beneath the covers and dress quietly.
The pieces are set. The players are ready. It's time to make my move—a move that will change everything.
I walk toward the door without looking back because if I do, I might be lost in those eyes forever. And right now, I need all my focus for what comes next.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ETHAN
Club Allure isa living organism tonight. Bass vibrates through the walls and floor, pulsing like a second heartbeat in my chest. Every monitor displays scenes of revelry. Laughter echoes, glasses clink, bodies move in sync with the music—it's all a perfect choreography of indulgence.
But here I am, standing sentinel, watching the celebration. My gaze flicks from screen to screen, searching for anomalies in the patterns of partygoers. I'm on edge, muscles coiled tight, mind racing with the information that's come to light.
I never considered that we'd make enemies. We started this club as friends wanting to forge our finances and energy into something bigger than our individual selves. A couple of years back, we had a brush with a rival that brought death to our doorstep, but I thought that was behind us.
However, with Dexter and Brandon circling closer, I'm starting to realize this is the cost of our ambition. That staking our claim turns Club Allure and all of us into walking targets because they want what we've built here.
A couple laughs too loud at the bar—nothing. A man in a sharp suit hands off his card to a woman with a laugh thatdoesn't quite reach her eyes—still nothing. But I'm looking for subtler signs, the kind you only catch when you know danger's presence.
I brush a hand through my curls, an absent gesture to curb the restlessness clawing up my spine. Every patron here is under my protection, but tonight, Kristine and Asher hold court over my thoughts. They're why I can't afford to miss a single detail.
The VIP section flares to life as Jackson strides into view on one of the screens. He leans into a conversation with a well-dressed group that's all smiles and nods. Jackson's got that charm turned up full blast—the same charm that’s kept our doors open and our club full.
But even Jackson’s easy demeanor can't dull the blade of urgency pressing against my ribs. I lean closer to a monitor as I spot a new face slipping through the crowd on the main floor—a face that doesn't fit with the usual clientele. He moves with purpose, eyes too sharp, too aware.
I tap an earpiece, voice low but commanding as I alert security to keep tabs on him. “Track the man in black by the southeast pillar,” I instruct them.
My crew responds with practiced ease, and I watch as one of our guys slides through the throng to get a better look at Mr. Black Suit. A message pops up on my phone—an encrypted line blinking with fresh urgency.
I swipe the message and read words that tighten my jaw.Watch your back.
It's unsigned but screams Dexter or Brandon—another chess piece moved across our darkening board. My thumb hovers over the screen as I consider my response or lack thereof.
The air in here feels thinner, like the time is drawing near. The time to finally end this. It's been weeks of them milking Kristine for information, weeks of me building the alliances I need to finally put this behind us.
I let out a breath and lock my phone. I'll let them wonder about our next move instead.
The screens pull me back—the man in black is leaving now, his part played or maybe just postponed. My fingers drum against cool metal, every nerve ending firing with silent alarms.
