Chapter Text
RAIN’S POV
(Present Day, in captivity)
I listen again, heart jumping sharply as footsteps approach. They're faster this time—uneven, hurried, anxious.
Not a good sign.
The lock rattles, the door swings open, and he steps in, looking jittery, eyes darting back and forth.
He’s scared. Good.
My heart hammers painfully, but I force myself to keep my voice steady.
“You know, if your brilliant plan is to use me against Phayu, you’re not helping your case by starving me.”
The man pauses, staring at me like I was insane.
“I’m hungry,” I snap, voice sharper, braver than I actually feel. “And thirsty. You planning to let me die here before Phi finds me?”
He doesn’t move immediately, just keeps watching me quietly. But his silence makes me angrier. More defiant.
“You already crossed a line by touching me at all,” I say coldly, glaring at him despite the tremor I can’t quite hide. “Starving me just makes you look pathetic”
“Your boyfriend’s a fucking psychopath,” he mutters, pacing restlessly, unable to hold still. “Do you know what’s going on out there?”
“Obviously not,” I snap back, my voice brittle with irritation and hunger. “Since you’ve tied me up and left me starving. You planning to update me?”
He glares at me but continues pacing, running a shaky hand through his hair. “They’re calling it gang wars. But it’s not gangs. It’s just Phayu, your precious boyfriend filling the fucking streets with blood.”
I lift my chin defiantly, hiding the cold chill running down my spine. “Then maybe the smartest thing you can do right now is let me go.”
He stops pacing, turning slowly to face me. His eyes narrow, suspicion and anxiety flickering through them. But there’s something else, like he’s waiting for something. Or someone.
“I can’t do that yet,” he mutters.
Yet.
I pick up on that hesitation, heart speeding up. “What exactly are you waiting for? An engraved invitation to your funeral?”
He steps closer suddenly, anger flashing dangerously across his face. “Shut up.”
“Or what?” I hiss, suddenly reckless, braver than I should be. “You’re already fucked. You kidnapped Phayu’s boyfriend, Vegas’ son in-law—do you honestly think there’s a scenario where you survive this?”
He clenches his fist, visibly shaking now. “I said shut the fuck up-”
But I’m too deep now, too angry, hungry, and frustrated to hold back. My mouth has always run faster than my sense of self-preservation.
“You’re clearly not smart enough to handle me,” I sneer, leaning forward defiantly. “If I were you, I’d let me go while I still had limbs attached. Unless you're aiming for a slow, painful death. In which case-”
He lunges suddenly, hand raised to strike. I flinch but snap out sharply, voice trembling but fierce:
“Go ahead! Hit me, see what happens. Might as well just kill me right now or better yet, kill yourself. Because if you have plans to hand me over alive, you’re dead either way.”
He freezes, his hand inches from my face, breathing hard. His eyes flash wildly-angry, terrified, uncertain. Slowly, he steps back, shaking.
I swallow hard, adrenaline making me nauseous. Probably not smart, provoking a man who might kill me.
I slump against the chair again, biting back tears of frustration. All I wanted was to hide a little. Shake Phi up. Make him miss me.
Now I’m here, tied up, starving, terrified, and furious.
Great job, Rain. Absolutely brilliant plan.
I stare at the ceiling, exhaustion hitting hard.
Please, Phi, I whisper silently. Find me soon.
Before I get myself killed.
I remember when I started putting this fucked up plan in the place…
I didn’t really plan it.
Not like, properly.
There was no detailed map, no getaway vehicle, no burner phone wrapped in tinfoil and hidden in the potted plant like some spy movie.
All I knew was… I had to go.
Not because I wanted to hurt him.
But because I wanted to be dramatic.
Because I didn’t know how else to make him see me again.
The version of me he’d been holding lately was too soft. Too easy to ignore.
And I’m not soft.
I’m loud. Clingy. A storm with grey eyes, bunny teeth and too many feelings.
And I thought he loved that.
I thought he needed it.
But he’d been functioning just fine lately. Better than fine.
Without the tantrums.
Without the whining.
Without me.
So I thought… maybe if I left, just for a little, he’d miss it again.
Miss me.
Three weeks before leaving…
Phi is still the same, we’ve become…normal.
Maybe I’ve been too much.
Maybe he’s tired of me.
I know he still loves me—that’s not the problem.
The problem is, what if love isn’t enough?
What if he loves me, but he’s just gotten used to me?
What if I’m not exciting anymore?
What if my antics, my brattiness, my neediness—what if he’s just over it?
The thought twists in my stomach, making me feel small.
And I decide, I need to talk to him about it.
I need to ask him, even if the answer might hurt.
So I get up, ready to confront it, ready to hear the truth.
But then, I hear him on the phone.
And what he says?
It stops me in my tracks.
"Rain is fine, adjusting actually" he chuckles, his tone casual, light, amused.
I freeze immediately, standing just outside the door.
"Still being his usual bratty, clingy self."
My chest tightens.
Because that’s true.
That’s always been true.
That’s who I am.
But now? Now, it sounds different.
It feels different.
Before?
Before, he used to say it like he loved it, like he thrived on it, like my clinginess and brattiness were his favorite thing about me.
But now it sounds like a habit.
Like something he’s gotten used to.
Like it’s just a part of his routine.
Like I’m just… normal now.
Like I’m not special anymore.
And that? That hurts.
More than I expected.
I don’t go inside anymore.
I don’t ask him about it.
I don’t tell him how I feel.
Because maybe…
Maybe this is my fault.
Maybe I’ve been too much for too long.
Maybe if I was less clingy, if I was less needy, if I was less Rain
Maybe then he’d notice me again.
Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like I’m fading into the background of his life.
So I decide,
I’ll just be good.
I’ll just be quiet.
I’ll just stop pushing for attention.
Maybe then, he’ll miss me.
Maybe then, he’ll want me the way he used to.
Because right now? Right now, it feels like I’m slipping through his fingers.
And I don’t know how to stop it.
***
It’s a testament to how much things have shifted.
The fact that me being good, me being obedient, me not bratting or clinging to him-
Did not seem suspicious to him.
He just let it happen.
Didn’t even question it.
Didn’t even notice the difference.
And that?
That confirmed it.
If I faded out of his world so easily, then I need to force my way back in.
And so, I start scheming.
But this time?
This time, I make it quiet.
I don’t tell Sky.
Because Sky would stop me.
Because Sky would tell Phayu the second he got suspicious.
Because Sky is the first person Phi would call if I went missing.
So this time? I do it alone.
I’ll just stay hidden.
Long enough for him to realize something is wrong.
Long enough for him to miss me.
Long enough for him to lose his mind over me again.
Because maybe, Maybe if I disappear just enough, Maybe if he thinks he lost me.
Maybe then, I can scare him back into needing me.
Because I am his.
And I need him to remember that.
Desperately.
***
I have never been a sneaky person.
Ever.
I don’t lie well.
I don’t hide things well.
I don’t keep secrets well.
Which means, if I want this to work, I have to play the long game.
I have to be patient.
I have to convince everyone especially Sky that everything is fine.
So, for weeks, I start laying the groundwork.
I distance myself from Sky just enough.
Not too much because then he’d ask questions.
Not too little because then I’d slip up and blurt something out.
Just enough to make it seem natural.
So when he finally notices and asks "Why aren’t you complaining about P’Phayu anymore?"
I shrug, sip my drink, and say "You were right, Sky. I was overreacting."
Sky narrows his eyes, clearly suspicious.
"Wait. So you’re telling me you’re suddenly fine?"
"Mmm-hmm," I hum, grinning like I’m the happiest boyfriend in the world. "I realized I was being dramatic. Phi still loves me. I was just being a brat."
"…" Sky stares at me harder.
"What?" I blink innocently.
"You’re never this emotionally mature about your problems."
"Excuse me?"
"You’re never this self-aware."
"Sky, how dare you?!"
"No, seriously, what are you hiding?"
"NOTHING, SKY! JUST BE HAPPY FOR ME!"
He squints at me for a while.
Eventually, he lets it go and fortunately for me, P’Pai took him on their baecation to celebrate his birthday.
Now, he won’t get in my way.
Then, something else happens.
Something that makes my plan even easier, as if the universe really wanted to fuck me up or make phi suffer.
P’Phayu sends James to Cambodia for some mafia whatever and Saifah is chasing a girl I think he likes so he’s barely home.
Which means? Less security watching me.
Less trained eyes paying attention to my movements.
Less people who know me well enough to question me not causing trouble.
And that is everything I need.
Because now?I can move quietly.
I can keep planning.
I can keep disappearing little by little until the day I make myself invisible.
Because no one pays attention to me when I’m not causing problems.
Because when I’m good, I become background noise.
And when I become background noise?
I can finally slip away.
I can finally disappear.
But when it came time to actually do it;
I realized I didn’t know where I was going.
Or how I was going to pay for anything.
Or even how I was going to get past the cameras.
The cameras, oh god.
Phi had the estate rigged like a high-security prison, only prettier. You couldn’t sneeze without it being recorded, replayed in slow motion, and archived for possible investigation.
Every hallway.
Every door.
Every blind spot I thought I knew, he’d already corrected.
So I had to get creative.
I remembered Sky once said the garden fence had a gap near the southeast wall—one of the sections still being remodeled. And the workers sometimes left equipment overnight. Ladders. Loose tarps. Boots.
It was a risk.
A huge one.
But my plan wasn’t about perfection. It was about impact.
So maybe I wasn’t the most graceful person in the world.
Fine. I wasn’t even close.
I trip over nothing at least once a day, I knock things off shelves just by breathing near them, and one time I spilled a smoothie on James and his gun during movie night. I wasn’t made for stealth.
But desperate times call for chaotic plans.
And this? This was the beginning of one.
I don’t know what made me wander into Phi’s wine cellar that day. Maybe I was avoiding the cameras. Maybe I was hiding from my own feelings. Maybe I just wanted to drink straight from one of those fancy bottles and blame it on “stress.”
But I noticed it then.
A warped edge in the back paneling. A sliver of space where there shouldn’t be space. It wasn’t obvious. Not at all. Probably the kind of thing no one would notice unless they’d spent way too much time crawling around Phi’s mansion feeling like a ghost.
I pressed on it. It gave.
And behind it?
A passageway.
Narrow. Dark. Cold.
I stared at it for a long time before stepping inside.
It smelled like stone and secrets.
The passage curved and split in places, but I followed the trail, slow and cautious, heart thudding in my ears. After a while, I realized where it ended, behind a false panel in one of the storage closets in James and Saifah’s wing.
Beyond that, if I could time it right during a shift change or a security blind spot, I could reach the southeast fence.
It was perfect.
Well, perfect-ish.
There were just a few minor problems.
One: I had no idea how to avoid the noise. I banged my elbow twice. Almost sneezed from the dust. My ankle twisted on a slope I didn’t see coming.
Two: James and Saifah are bloodhounds. And I suck at lying.
Three: Phi literally built this house like he was preparing for apocalypse, warfare, or worse, me unsupervised.
And four: I didn’t know what would happen once I left.
Just this… fire in my chest. This ache. This need to prove something. To make him see me again.
So I started memorizing the route.
Practicing my quiet steps.
Timing the guards.
Learning their paths.
Counting every creak in the floorboards.
Because I wasn’t running.
I was reminding him.
And I was going to make damn sure he noticed when his sun wasn’t in his sky anymore.
I didn’t know how long I’d be gone.
I didn’t know how long I could stay gone.
But I wanted him to feel it. The space I used to fill.
Even if it broke me a little.
I already promised him I wouldn’t run.
So I won’t.
I’ll still be his.
I just…
Won’t be where he can find me.
Not right away.
THE NIGHT BEFORE EVERYTHING CHANGES
Phi comes home late.
Too late.
Later than he should.
And that ticks me off immediately.
Because this isn’t us.
This isn’t how we work.
If Phi was going to be busy, I would have been in his office all day, curled up in his lap, satisfying our need to be around each other before he had to leave again.
That’s how we do things.
That’s how we always did things.
We don’t stay apart this long.
We don’t go hours without touching.
And yet?
Tonight?
He comes home exhausted, looking like he just wants to crash immediately.
And me, sitting there waiting for him, already knowing that I’m not his priority right now?
That feels like a slap in the face.
"You’re late," I say quietly, watching as he tosses his jacket aside, rubbing his temples.
"Mmm," he hums, barely looking at me, walking toward the bathroom. "Long day, angel."
I frown.
Because no.
No "long day" should be enough of a reason for him to forget about me.
No "long day" should be more important than me.
He never used to let it be before.
"You could have told me," I say, standing up now, pushing for his attention. "I would have been in your office, waiting."
"I know, baby," he murmurs, sighing, finally turning to me, tilting my chin up briefly before pressing a soft, tired kiss to my forehead. "But I didn’t want to keep you waiting all day."
I pause.
Because what?
Since when has that ever been a problem?
Since when does he think I mind waiting for him?
Since when does he decide for me what I want?
And then, Then, the worst part, He pulls away.
Just like that.
No lingering touches.
No pulling me in closer.
No dragging me with him to bed like he used to.
Just a kiss on the forehead.
And then he walks away.
And that? That is the moment I know.
I stand there, watching him disappear into the bathroom, my chest tightening painfully.
Because if there was any doubt before, If there was any small part of me that thought I was imagining things?
It’s gone now.
Because this proves it.
I don’t have all of him like I used to.
I need to do something now.
Before it’s too late.
Before I fade away completely.
Before he forgets how much he needs me.
THE FINAL CHECK BEFORE I DISAPPEAR
I go into our closet, my heart pounding, my hands itching as I check my getaway bag one last time.
Everything is in place.
Everything is ready.
And the only thing left to do—Is leave.
I force myself not to look at the bags of unopened gifts still sitting there.
Gifts that prove he still thinks about me.
Gifts that should make me feel better.
But they don’t.
Because I don’t want gifts.
I don’t want things.
I just want Phi.
I hear footsteps behind me.
I freeze immediately, my breath caught in my throat, my fingers curling into my palm.
And then "Angel."
His voice is low, rough from exhaustion, and when I turn, he’s standing there, fresh from the shower.
Towel slung low on his hips.
Another towel in his hands, drying his hair lazily.
And for a brief, terrifying moment,
I think he’s going to see the bag.
I think he’s going to realize something is wrong.
I think he’s going to notice me falling away from him.
But he doesn’t.
He just glances at me, his gaze heavy, his lips twitching slightly before he reaches for me.
"Come to bed, baby," he murmurs, his hand wrapping around my wrist, his touch warm, familiar.
Like he doesn’t know what I’m about to do.
Like he doesn’t feel the way I’m unraveling inside.
Like he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.
I let him pull me away from the closet, let him guide me to bed, let him press a slow, lingering kiss against my temple.
And for a moment, I almost don’t go through with it.
For a moment, I think, Maybe this is enough.
Maybe I’m overthinking.
Maybe he still loves me like he did before.
But then? he falls asleep immediately.
Without pulling me on top of him.
Without tangling his legs with mine.
Without holding me close like he used to.
And that is what seals my decision.
Because this is not my Phi.
And if I have to disappear for him to wake up and see me again—
Then so be it.
I wait.
I wait until his breathing evens out, until his grip on me loosens, until I know he’s deep asleep.
I don’t have much time,
He’ll be up in a few hours, and by then, I need to be gone.
This has to be perfect.
This has to be foolproof.
This has to scare him just enough to wake him up again.
To make him see me again.
I carefully slip out of his hold.
I don’t rush.
I don’t make a sound.
Because if he wakes up now, it’s over.
Then, I reach under the bed.
To the handcuffs he uses on me when we play.
And for a brief second, guilt slams into me like a punch.
Because Phi always stays on guard.
Because Phi never lets his defenses down.
Because I am the only person in the world he lets himself be vulnerable around.
And I’m using that against him.
But I can’t stop now.
I can’t let myself feel guilty.
I have to see this through.
My hands shake as I carefully, gently, cuff one wrist to the bedpost.
He doesn’t stir.
He doesn’t even react.
Because he trusts me.
And I am breaking that trust tonight.
For his own good.
Next, I move quickly.
I grab his gun from the bedside table, the knife from under the bed where he keeps it stashed, and I tuck them into my bag.
Phi would never let me walk around unarmed.
And even if this is just me hiding for a little while
I don’t take chances.
My heart is racing, my chest is tight, my hands are clammy.
But I don’t stop.
I pull the note from my pocket, the one I spent hours writing, and carefully place it on the pillow next to him.
So he’ll see it the moment he wakes up.
So he’ll know I was here, touching him, loving him, before I left.
Then, I take one last look at him.
He looks so peaceful like this.
So soft, even as his brows furrow slightly, as if some part of him knows something is wrong.
As if his body already feels the absence coming.
I reach out, brush my fingers down his jaw one last time.
And then, I leave.
Quietly.
Without a sound.
Without a trace.
Because by the time he wakes up?
By the time he reads the note?
By the time he realizes he can’t get out of the cuffs?
I’ll be gone.
And I’ll finally see if he can still live without me.
My breath comes in shallow, slow bursts as I make my way through the house—barefoot, hoodie too big, heart beating like a countdown.
The halls are still.
Too still.
The kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’re in a dream. Or a trap.
I glance behind me again. Nothing. No shadows. No creaks. Just the faint hum of the estate at night—the machines that keep everything running. The quiet footsteps of distant guards, visible from the window where I crouch behind a curtain.
Outside, men patrol. The infrared glint of cameras turns across the lawn like blinking eyes.
This place is a fortress.
Sneaking out was never supposed to work.
Which is why I’m thankful, again, that our wing of the house has always been quieter. Less guarded. Probably because Phi figured no one would be stupid enough to try anything there—especially me.
Joke’s on him.
I slip into the basement, moving fast, hugging the walls until I reach his private lounge.
I slip into Phi’s private lounge like I haven’t been explicitly told, multiple times, not to be in here unsupervised.
I’m already sweating.
Not from nerves, okay fine, partly from nerves but mostly from how unreasonably humid this house gets when I’m trying to do anything secretive and cool and Mission Impossible-coded.
“This is why you’re not allowed in this room without me,” I mock in his voice under my breath, brushing my fingers along the edge of a glass decanter like I’m not two seconds away from breaking it.
It’s too fancy in here.
Too dark.
Too… Phi.
Everything’s sleek, minimalist, black and gold with glints of crystal and shelves lined with bottles that cost more than my tuition.
Shelves of expensive whiskey and untouched cigars is the wine cellar.
Rows and rows of ridiculous vintage bottles—too many years, too many zeroes, the bottles worth more than most people’s entire lives, the collection only he has access to.
I trip over a stool.
A clear stool.
Who makes clear furniture?! Why does that exist? Who asked?
It screeches backward dramatically across the marble and nearly takes me down with it. I stumble forward and catch myself barely on the edge of a bar cart.
Four decanters clink dangerously.
I freeze.
I swear if I break one and it sets off some kind of silent alarm system, I’m going to cry.
I whisper an apology to the bar cart like it’s alive.
“This is why he never lets me in here without him,” I mutter, straightening. “Because he knows I’m one wrong breath away from shattering his entire whiskey collection.”
I tiptoe around the edge of the lounge, wincing every time the floor creaks under me like it’s tattling. Even the light fixtures seem to judge me.
Still, I push forward.
Because I’m not turning back now.
Even if I have to apologize for ten new bruises, one scuffed antique stool, and what might have been an accidental glitter trail I left behind… I’m going.
I’ll make him miss me.
I move to the back, brushing my fingers along the seams in the wall, counting panels in my head.
I know it’s here.
And now I press against the right shelf.
It gives.
A creak echoes loud enough to make me freeze, heart leaping into my throat.
I hold still.
Wait.
Listen.
That a guard heard.
That Phi somehow woke up early.
That I’ve been found before I even got to disappear.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No raised voices. No voice calling out my name in suspicion.
I let out a slow breath and push it open, flicking on the flashlight I borrowed from under the sink, stepping into the narrow passage.
The air is stale. Cold. It smells like dust and stone and forgotten things.
I walk faster now. I know the exit. I memorized the route.
I’m so close.
I see the end—just ahead, the faint outline of the utility closet in James and Saifah’s wing.
I get out of the utility closet and make my way past their den.
I’m in a completely different wing of the mansion now, different rules apply here but as long as I’m quiet, I’ll be fine.
But then the air shifts.
I pause.
Something feels… off.
Like someone’s watching me.
Like I’m being followed.
But I know it’s not Phi.
I’d feel him.
I always do.
I keep going, holding onto my bag and walking as quiet as I can.
Some doors and beyond it, the fence.
I am able to make my way out of their wing, even past the guards watching football and yelling.
My greenhouse isn’t far from here, if anybody asks, I can always point to it.
A couple of shaky steps and I get to where the construction is going on and then the fence…
Freedom.
One step.
Two steps.
Three—
I step forward and suddenly feel something weirder.
Phi?
Before I can move, a sharp scent hits me—sweet, chemical, wrong.
A hand.
A grip.
The cloth is over my mouth.
I try to scream but no sound comes out.
My legs thrash. My heart slams.
I try to struggle, but my limbs go weak too fast, my mind spinning, my vision blurring before I can even fight back.
No.
No.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I wasn’t running away.
I wasn’t escaping.
I was just hiding.
So how—How did I still get caught?
I didn’t account for this.
For the fact that Phi’s ranks weren’t as untouchable as he thought.
For the fact that Stop’s men had infiltrated the lowest levels of his organization.
For the fact that one of them had been waiting, watching,
And had followed me.
The last thing I feel is the ground slipping away beneath me, a body holding mine, a presence that doesn’t belong in this house.
I hear a voice.
Right next to my ear.
Low. Amused. Ugly.
“Today must be Christmas.”
And the last thing I think before the darkness takes me completely,
Is that Phi, Phi is going to lose his mind when he wakes up.
VEGAS’S POV
(Present Day, Phayu’s Office)
I push open the door to Venice’s office, and the sight stops me dead in my tracks.
He is at his desk but he looks nothing like himself. His hair, usually neatly tied back, is loose, tangled, cascading over his shoulders and hiding half his face. His eyes are dark, haunted, staring blankly at a monitor looping endless videos of Rain. It’s like he’s here, but he’s not really here.
He looks wild.
Unhinged.
Dangerous.
I’m suddenly unsure whether Sky revealing Rain’s issues helped or made it worse. Yes, it stopped the carnage he unleashed on the city streets but now he’s spiraled somewhere even darker.
I walk straight up to his desk, bracing my palms against it, leaning in sharply.
“Venice.”
No response.
“Venice!”
He slowly lifts his gaze, eyes dull, almost unfocused.
This isn’t my son. This isn’t even the cold, ruthless mafia leader the world fears.
This is a ghost.
It terrifies me.
“You’re losing yourself,” I say harshly. “This isn’t you.”
He doesn’t answer, just stares through me as though I’m barely there.
Anger flares hot and urgent in my chest, anger at him, at the situation, at the helplessness of watching him fall apart.
“Listen to me,” I snap, voice hard, sharp enough to pierce through his fog. “I know you’re hurting, but you can’t stay like this. Rain needs you, do you understand? Sitting here drowning in grief isn’t going to bring him home.”
He flinches slightly, the only indication he’s even hearing me.
I step closer, voice lowering dangerously. “You’re not helping him like this. Whatever happened—whatever you blame yourself for—it doesn’t matter now. What matters is finding Rain and bringing him home.”
Venice’s eyes finally flicker with something other than numbness—pain, raw and open. “Dad…I broke him. I pushed him away.”
“So fix it,” I say fiercely, my voice steady and absolute. “You’re my son, Venice. You’ve survived everything this world’s thrown at you. Everything I’ve thrown at you. Are you going to fall apart now? Are you going to let Rain down?”
He swallows roughly, eyes squeezed shut, breathing ragged.
“Look at me,” I command softly.
He opens his eyes slowly, and my voice gentles slightly, desperate to reach him. “You can lose control, but you can’t lose yourself. Rain needs you to be strong, even if you have to pretend right now. Don’t let him down by giving up.”
For a long moment, there’s only silence—heavy, tense, charged.
He swallows roughly, eyes squeezed shut, his breathing ragged, painful to watch. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers hoarsely. “I seem to do everything wrong with him.”
Fury flares in my chest, fury at his self-pity, at his hopelessness. I lean in closer, harsh, ruthless. “You sitting here doing nothing is worse. Forty-eight fucking hours, Venice. You’ve sworn a thousand times that not even death would separate you two, yet look at you now—pathetic.”
His jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides.
I push harder. “Maybe Rain’s better off without you. Maybe he's found someone else, someone willing to fight for him.”
That does it.
His eyes snap open, suddenly blazing with rage, pure and uncontrolled. Before I can react, he lunges at me, knocking me to the floor, his knife flashing cold against my throat. The impact rattles my bones, sharp steel pressing firmly into my skin.
Saifah and James burst into the room at the noise, stopping short, stunned by the scene unfolding.
But I only smirk up at my son.
Finally, the fire’s back in his eyes—dangerous, lethal, alive again.
He leans in, voice low, deadly serious. “You’re my father, Vegas, but I swear, if you ever speak those words again, I will fucking kill you.”
I meet his gaze steadily, feeling pride surge beneath the knife’s cold edge. “Good,” I say softly. “Now get the hell off me and bring him home.”
He holds my gaze fiercely for a second longer before slowly pulling away, rising to his feet. The room is deathly silent, Saifah and James frozen, unsure how to react.
Venice stands tall now, shoulders squared, the lost, haunted look completely replaced by a cold, ruthless determination.
“I’m bringing Rain home,” he says calmly, adjusting the knife back into his waistband. He looks down at me, eyes clear and focused again. “Never question me like that again.”
I sit up slowly, rubbing my throat lightly, and smirk. “Don’t give me a reason to.”
He turns sharply, stalking out of the room without another word, Saifah and James quickly stepping aside to let him pass.
I exhale slowly, my heart still racing from adrenaline. Venice is back—dangerous, intense, focused.
Because if Venice crumbles, everything crumbles.
And that can’t happen—not today, not ever.
PHAYU’S POV
(Present Day, Control Room)
The control room is running on pure static and adrenaline.
Screens flicker. Voices crackle through comms. Maps and heat signatures refresh over and over—empty.
Still empty.
I stand at the center of it all, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the display showing Rain’s last recorded movement.
Which was nothing.
Saifah hovers beside me, typing, rerouting signals, adjusting frequencies like his life depends on it.
Because it does.
“Is it online yet?” I ask, voice low.
His fingers pause for half a second. That’s all I need to know.
“I’m rebooting it again now,” he says, not meeting my eyes. “It’s been down all day. I’ve cycled the signal four times. It keeps timing out.”
My jaw tightens. “You told me this morning it would reconnect.”
“It should have. But the necklace might’ve been tampered with. Or it’s being blocked by interference.”
“Or it’s not on him anymore.”
Saifah swallows. “Maybe.”
I run a hand down my face.
Rain’s necklace. He never takes it off. Says it makes him feel like I’m “holding onto him all the time.”
Because I am.
And because it has a tracker embedded in the clasp—military-grade, off-grid, untraceable.
“Another reboot?” I ask, voice cold.
“Already started,” Saifah says. “It’ll take thirty minutes.”
I exhale slowly through my nose. The kind of breath that burns on the way out.
“Thirty minutes,” I echo, more to myself than him.
Thirty more minutes of not knowing.
Of not moving.
Of not doing.
That necklace was my tether.
***
The control room buzzes around me again, screens flickering, men on phones, movement everywhere but my eyes remain locked on a single piece of paper in my hand.
Rain’s note.
The edges are worn from how many times I’ve read and reread his messy handwriting:
“Don’t be mad, Phi!
I’ll be back soon, I promise!
Well, maybe a little bit later—but you can get a lot of work done, and you don’t have to give me so much attention!
When you’re thinking of all the ways to punish me, remember you love me so much and I’m the brightest sun in your world, and you love my smile and my bunny teeth and my lips and my doe eyes and my hair and my waist and my…”
My chest tightens painfully.
He was teasing me, baiting me like always but there’s no way he planned on leaving this long. Not willingly. Not Rain. My baby might be chaotic, impulsive, dramatic but even at his worst, even when he wanted my attention so badly he made himself a nuisance, he would never voluntarily go twenty-four hours without me, let alone forty-eight.
He wouldn’t do this to me or himself.
No. Something else happened.
Something that changed his plans.
I set the note down carefully, fingers shaking slightly, and turn sharply to James and Saifah.
“Stop,” I say coldly, voice low and steady now. “What’s his status?”
Saifah shakes his head, eyes dark and tense. “He hasn’t left his house. We’ve had eyes on him the whole time. No movement. No unusual visitors.”
James steps closer, cautious. “But we found something strange—Kora apparently moved in with him about a week ago.”
My jaw tightens. “Kora?”
“Yes. Nobody noticed initially—it was discreet, very quiet. But she’s been there continuously ever since.”
I nod slowly, processing quickly.
Kora. Stop. Neither of them directly moved against Rain. Stop was always too careful, too deliberate to make an impulsive move. And Kora had been quiet, disturbingly so since the gala. But what if they weren’t acting directly? What if someone else was involved, someone they manipulated from the shadows?
“Then we’re missing something,” I say quietly, tension coiling tighter. “Rain didn’t vanish willingly not for this long. He’d never risk this, never willingly stay away.”
Vegas steps beside me, voice quiet but firm. “So who else is connected to Kora and Stop—someone desperate, manipulable?”
My fists clench, eyes darkening with icy rage. “Someone disposable. Someone they could use and discard. We’ve been focusing on the obvious players—maybe it’s time we look at the pawns.”
James nods sharply, already turning to issue new commands. Saifah’s phone lights up, buzzing softly, and he immediately answers it, voice low and urgent.
I stare again at Rain’s note, heart pounding furiously, determination burning deep and relentless inside me.
He didn’t leave voluntarily.
Which means someone took him from me.
And when I find that someone,
They’ll realize the true meaning of pain.
My fingers tighten around the edge of the table as I stare at Rain’s note again, the words swirling—but not in the same way they did before.
“I’ll be back soon…”
But it’s not the words this time.
It’s the tone.
It’s Rain.
And something about it suddenly hits me.
Hard.
Rain is chaotic. Loud. Bright. Blonde.
He hums while brushing his teeth. He narrates everything he does. He sings off-key in the hallways. He stomps when he’s upset and drapes himself over furniture like he’s allergic to silence.
Rain is never quiet.
But that morning, no one saw him.
Not the guards. Not the housekeepers. Not even the cameras.
Not a single soul saw Rain leave the estate.
And suddenly—That’s the problem.
My head jerks up, heart pounding.
“Wait.”
James, Saifah, and Vegas freeze mid-conversation, turning toward me.
I step back from the table, breath catching. “Why didn’t anyone see him leave?”
James frowns. “What do you mean? We’ve been saying—”
“No,” I cut him off, eyes narrowing. “You don’t get it. He’s Rain. He doesn’t leave quietly. He can’t even sneak a midnight snack without tripping over something. He talks to plants. He wears mesh in the sun and shouts when his bubble tea is late.”
They blink, confused.
“Rain couldn’t have left the estate without someone seeing him. Not without tripping alarms. Not without me knowing. And the cameras didn’t catch him leaving either.”
The silence in the room sharpens.
James’ mouth opens. Closes.
Vegas straightens, expression hardening. “So what are you saying?”
My chest heaves.
“I’m saying… what if Rain never left the estate at all?”
The room goes still.
And for the first time in two days, the frantic puzzle of Rain’s disappearance starts to click into terrifying place.
“What if he’s been here this whole time,” I whisper. “Somewhere hidden. Somewhere close.”
Saifah is already pulling up blueprints. James curses under his breath, pacing to the back wall. Vegas narrows his eyes and starts tapping into the restricted internal zones.
I press a palm flat against the desk to steady myself, blood roaring in my ears.
Because Rain wouldn’t leave me.
But someone might’ve taken him
Without ever taking him out.
And if that’s true… then he’s still here.
And I’m about to burn this entire estate down to find him.