Rico stepped onto the wet driveway, rain plastering the umbrella Eliron held over his head. The sleek black car waited under the muted glow of the estate lights, hood slick with water, tires glistening like black onyx. The scent of wet asphalt and rain hung heavy in the air, sharp and cold, but Rico barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere, coiled tight with urgency. “Eliron,” he said, voice low but firm, “is the car ready?” “Yes, it is, young master,” Eliron replied, eyes steady, though a thread of concern lingered beneath the calm. He had seen this tension in Rico before—the kind that demanded obedience more than advice. It wasn’t just impatience; it was purpose sharpened into a weapon. Rico gave a curt nod and reached for the keys. Eliron handed them over, the cold metal pressing into Rico’s palm. In that instant, Eliron felt the familiar weight of responsibility shift, leaving him behind. His chest tightened, but he forced himself to remain still, watching the young master.

Rico’s gaze lingered on the car parked a few yards down the road, headlights slicing through the rain. The engine was still running. Through the blur of water, he could make out a shadow in the driver’s seat,the man had not moved since the crash. Watching. Waiting. He turned back to Melinda, his tone slow and deliberate. “There’s someone inside that car,” he said. “He’s been following me since I left the estate.” Melinda’s brows knitted together, confusion deepening. “Following you? What does that have to do with us?” Rico took a step closer, the puddles rippling beneath his boots. “It means,” he said, “you’re going to help me make sure he doesn’t follow me any farther.” Her breath caught. “I don’t understand.” “You don’t need to,” Rico replied evenly. “You just need to listen.” Ramon tensed beside her, his voice small. “We’ll do anything, sir. Just tell us what you want.” Rico’s gaze shifted to him, then back to Melinda. “I want her to walk up to that car,” he sai

The rain had no mercy that night. It fell in torrents and was relentless as though the heavens themselves sought vengeance. Ramon stood by his car, drenched to the bone. The water slid down his temples, pooled beneath his chin, and seeped through the collar of his soaked shirt until he could no longer tell where the rain ended and his sweat began. His hands gripped the car door handle with white-knuckled desperation. It didn’t budge. The keys were gone. The Master of the West family had taken them—and with them, he couldn't do anything. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the car, chest rising and falling in erratic bursts. Each breath steamed faintly against the chill air. His teeth clenched so hard his jaw trembled. “Damn it…” The words left him like smoke, drowned immediately by the downpour. For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the rain hit him harder, as if punishment could somehow steady his thoughts. He wasn’t sure who he was angrier at— The master,

The rain came down in relentless sheets, soaking Melinda to the bone as she hurried toward the car. Each step sent cold water seeping into her heels, numbing her feet, and making her teeth chatter. She tried to think, tried to calm herself, but her mind was spinning too fast. Every instinct screamed that they were in trouble, and there was no one to fix it but them. Ramon stood rigid by the driver’s side of the car, drenched through his coat, hair plastered to his forehead. His jaw was tight, and the faint lines around his eyes told Melinda more about his temper than his words ever could. He didn’t speak at first, just glared at the puddles forming around his boots. When he finally opened his mouth, the words came sharp, almost clipped by irritation. “You were supposed to keep him there until the Master returned!” he barked, his voice rising as the rain plastered his clothes to his body. “He has my keys!” Melinda stopped in her tracks, freezing for a moment as the cold bit i

Rain fell in steady sheets, pounding against the windshield as Eliron tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The wipers fought the storm, squeaking rhythmically as the headlights cut through the blur of water. The city was alive with flashing lights and sirens in the distance, but to him, it all sounded like static — muffled, unimportant. He had one focus: the faint blinking tracker on the dashboard. A tiny red dot pulsed slowly, marking Rico West’s location. It was the same device he had installed quietly under Rico’s car earlier that night, when Rico insisted on leaving alone and Damian had asked him to follow him. “Follow him. Don’t lose sight. I don’t care where he goes,” Damian had said. Eliron didn’t question it. He never did. Obedience had kept him alive in this family. Still, something in Damian’s tone tonight had been different. It wasn’t just authority — there was worry underneath it, maybe even fear. Damian West rarely feared anything. It was probably because if