The convoy rolled through Manhattan’s glittering streets, the city’s lights bouncing off the SUVs like a promise Gary wasn’t sure he believed anymore. He sat in the back, one hand on Lola’s stretcher, the other clenched into a fist. She was out cold, medics monitoring her vitals, her face pale but calm. Miles sat across from him, staring out the window, clutching that blood-stained scrap of Mei Lin’s sleeve like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. The kid hadn’t spoken since they left JFK, his eyes hollow, like he’d left his soul back in The Eye.Gary leaned his head back, the leather seat creaking. He was home. His life, his city, his turf, where he’d gone from a broke nobody to a billionaire flipping off the Lancasters. But it didn’t feel like home. Not after China. Not after seeing Grandmaster Wang’s throat ripped out, Mei Lin’s heart in his hand, and the Wang Empire’s sci-fi nightmare — neural links, Model labs, a whole island built to break people into code

The next day, Gary woke up pretty late. He spent the night resting his extremely tired body. He had a series of nightmares he battled with and was only able to sleep after 4am.“You sleep like a log that’s been hit by a truck,” Serena said, her voice cutting through the haze in his head. She was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, a mug of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. Her hair was tied back, practical as always, but there was a softness in her eyes that she tried to hide with that smirk.Gary groaned, rolling over, his muscles aching like he’d been in a fight. Which, hell, he had. China wasn’t just a trip — it was a war zone in his mind. “What time is it?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. The room was too bright, sunlight streaming through the blinds like it didn’t care about his headache, thanks to his personal assistant.“Past 10,” she said, stepping closer and setting the coffee on the nightstand. “You needed it. But if you don’t get up now, the day’s gonna

Miles barely slept. The nightmares hit hard again.His mom’s remains, the junkyard’s chemical stink, Master Long’s devilishly ugly face, life in that hell.He woke up sweaty, the blood-stained scrap of his mom’s sleeve still in his hand, tucked under the pillow in his massive new room. The mansion was too quiet, too clean, nothing like the bunkers that had caged him for ten years. He rolled out of bed, the matte black card Gary gave him glinting on the nightstand. A hundred million bucks. A Wang’s power. He didn’t want it, not really. He just wanted to feel human again. But still, he knew he could use it for one or two expenditures. He got up, took his shower, and put a simple cloth on his muscular body, something lose. He was worried about what to wear to his first day at college, but everything he needed was already provided for him.Chen Wei was waiting downstairs, leaning against a sleek black SUV —smaller than the mansion’s flashier cars, but still too fancy for Miles’ liking. “C

Their eyes locked. Miles didn’t blink. Neither did the boy —Carson, he’d heard the name in there. Carson stared hard, like he was sizing up fresh meat, ready to swallow this new face whole. That conversation replayed —covering up violence, framing kids. This prick did that. And now he was eyeballing Miles like prey, like a newly found victim.“Hey, look away, new asshole, what the fuck are you looking at?” Carson roared, his voice loud enough to turn heads in the hall.Miles didn’t flinch. His bunker years taught him to stand, not cower –especially not to fools and demons like this Carson.“Takes two to stare, mate,” Miles shot back, his accent thick as he stepped forward. His Wang blood pulsed in his veins, Model strength itching under his skin, but he kept it leashed. Xiao Mi, not the heir. Not yet.Carson was shocked. No one dared talk to him that way. Every new student must have been informed –one way or another– that there was a beast in the school, a beast they must fear and wo

The room buzzed with cruel amusement. Miles kept his chin high, eyes forward. Let them laugh. He’d learned long ago that every jeer was a mask for weakness. Besides, he had faced too great a nuisance to be fazed by this nuisance. The lecturer, unimpressed, slammed the marker against the whiteboard. “Enough, Carson. This isn’t your circus. Miles, welcome. Find a seat.”Miles’ eyes scanned the room. His heart jolted when they landed on her again —the girl. The same half-smile, the same silk-dark hair. But this time, when their eyes met, she didn’t hold his gaze. She looked away quickly, almost guiltily, like something in her had cracked. Like she wasn’t exactly proud of sitting next to Carson. Like she was hiding something beneath her pretty exterior.That told Miles more than her words ever could.He tore his eyes away, searching for a seat. There—an empty desk beside a thin boy hunched small in his chair, arm in a sling. Tim. The boy from the hall. The one who had flinched like a rab