Askai woke with a violent jolt, the kind that snapped breath from lungs and tore consciousness back too fast. The half-crushed can of beer was still clutched in his hand, slick with cold residue. He grimaced and set it aside, blinking hard as his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness.

  The room lay in muted silver, washed in the pale, indifferent glow of a moon that refused to set. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than an hour—his mind was still thick, heavy, the remnants of exhaustion clinging like wet clothes. Across the narrow space, Jordan lay sprawled on the other bed, limbs flung about with boyish abandon, dead to the world.

  Nothing seemed out of place in the dimness… and yet, something had torn him awake.

  There it was again.

  A faint disturbance cutting through the silence—the whisper of shuffling steps, sharp hisses of low voices. Askai’s pulse jerked. The sound came from the window he had so carelessly left cracked open, letting in the cool night air.

  He moved toward it with slow, deliberate steps. The instant he reached the frame, his breath caught in his throat.

  Down below, in the narrow street that wound like a shadow through the student district, men in black suits prowled with the vicious precision of trained hunters. One stood locked in an intense, heated argument with the warden at the gate—poor man looked as though he’d rather wrestle a demon than deny them entry.

  Then, with a sudden stillness that chilled Askai to the bone, one of the men tilted his head upward.

  Askai dropped from the window in an instant, muscles snapping into motion.

  “Jordi—wake up,” he whispered fiercely, shaking Jordan’s shoulder.

  Jordan mumbled, eyelids fluttering as though trying to pull himself back from a dream, before wide, confused blue eyes fixed on Askai’s tense expression.

  “We need to leave. Now. They found us. They’re right outside—we have less than a minute.”

  Something in Askai’s tone—low, clipped, resolute—cut through the fog of sleep. Jordan flew upright, fumbling for the bag he kept tucked beneath his bed. Askai didn’t need to explain; this was a drill they’d rehearsed more times than either cared to count.

  In the West, darkness meant only two things—vulnerability or opportunity. You never truly knew which one you were stepping into until the blade was already at your throat.

  “Is there a safe way out?” Jordan asked as he shoved his phone and charger into his bag, fingers remarkably steady despite the tension rippling through the air.

  Askai was already lacing his shoes, mind racing through the layout of the building. “The fire exit,” he muttered absently. “No one uses it. I kept the keys. It’s our best chance.”

  Jordan didn’t wait—he was out the door in a flash, silent as a shadow.

  Askai yanked his emergency stash from beneath the drawer, slung his own bag across his shoulder, and reached the doorway just as Jordan leaned back, whispering urgently, “Footsteps. They’re coming up the main stairs.”

  The hair prickled on Askai’s neck.

  He eased the door shut without a sound and motioned Jordan to follow. Their escape route lay only two doors down—fortunate positioning that, tonight, felt like divine intervention.

  They slipped into the narrow fire exit and began descending the metal steps two at a time, the cold rail biting against their palms. Above them, a crash split the stillness—wood splintering under force.

  A door being kicked in.

  Their hearts thundered in unison, matching the frantic rhythm of their footsteps. But fear did not rule Askai; anger did. A simmering, bewildered fury that strengthened with each step he took.

  Who in hell had rounded up Zeke’s men?

  And why—why—had they guarded him in the hospital if they wanted him dead? Askai had done the whole city a favor by taking out that rat. If anything, he should’ve been thanked.

  Instead, someone was hunting him with alarming precision.

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  His jaw clenched. And now they were inside Nolan University? The thought hit him like a blow. That was a line even the dirtiest West-side enforcers didn’t dare cross.

  He didn’t know what terrified him more—

  That someone was breaking every rule of the city to get to him…Or that he had absolutely no idea who that someone was.

  The old bike waited exactly where Askai had left it—leaning against the back wall beside the fire exit, as loyal and battered as every habit he had picked up while ruling the streets in the reckless arrogance of youth. But as he swung his leg over it, a cold truth hit him with a sting of remorse.

  For all the years he had spent mastering the alleys, outrunning rivals, and flirting with danger…

  He had never learned to fear the sound of his own engine.

  The moment he kicked the starter, the bike roared awake—far too loud, far too eager—shattering the fragile hush of night. Askai winced. Once, that roar had meant freedom. Power. Triumph. Tonight, it felt like a torch held above their heads, announcing their presence to every predator in Nolan.

  Jordan climbed on behind him in a blur of motion, gripping Askai's shoulders as the bike shot forward. The force of acceleration punched through them both, the wind slashing across their faces as the machine growled through the empty streets like a furious beast.

  Under normal circumstances, Askai would have taken the West. It was a maze he knew intimately—crowded lanes, shadowy markets, blind corners where a man could vanish in moments. But tonight, even the West felt hostile, too awake, too full of listening ears.

  Downtown, information moved faster than bullets.

  Every whisper was bought. Every rumor sold.

  And the moment someone breathed that Kai was back, the entire city would hum with it by sunrise.

  “Where to?” Jordan shouted, leaning in as the wind tore his voice away. Then louder, more desperate, he suggested: “My hideout across the docks?We can catch a boat, leave Nolan before anyone reaches the coast!”

  Askai shook his head, taking a sharp turn that sent the bike skidding dangerously close to the curb.

  “West is risky! We don’t own those streets anymore!” he yelled back. “I know a place in the East. They’d never think to look there.”

  Jordan didn’t argue—trust had been carved into their bones long before tonight.

  But as Askai veered onto the next street, everything exploded at once.

  Headlights flared. Engines screamed.

  Cars came at them from every direction—sleek black sedans, police vehicles with sirens blaring in warning, and dark-clad riders on bikes weaving through light traffic like wolves closing in on prey.

  Askai cursed under his breath, leaning hard to the side as one of the sedans tried to slam into them. Jordan’s fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on for dear life.

  Suddenly, they were dodging between three converging vehicles, the night filled with the shriek of tires and the beating pulse of sirens that seemed to claw closer with every heartbeat.

  Askai’s instincts surged—raw, honed, furious. He cut through an alley so narrow Jordan’s knee nearly scraped the wall. He ducked beneath a low bridge, tires kicking sparks. He swerved through a half-constructed roundabout with inches to spare, leaving their pursuers scrambling to adjust.

  But for the first time in a very long while—

  Askai felt something terrifyingly close to helplessness.

  No matter how sharp his reflexes, no matter how clever his turns or unexpected his routes, the cars kept coming. Their formation tightened like a noose. They weren’t chasing—they were herding him and never in his life, he had met men trained like that.

  “Kai—!” Jordan’s voice cracked behind him, fear lacing through the shout.

  “I see them,” Askai muttered through clenched teeth, though his chest tightened in a way he refused to name. The streets he once dominated now turned against him, offering no cover, no escape.

  And then— They finally reached.

  Askai swerved sharply into a side road, cutting through a deserted service lane and bursting into a near-empty commercial parking lot.

  Jordan recognized it instantly.

  His breath froze. His fingers went numb around Askai’s shoulders.

  But neither said a word.

  Askai slowed only enough for the bike to screech to a halt. Jordan slid off, feet unsteady, heart pounding so hard he thought it might splinter his ribs. The sirens echoed in the distance, closing in like a storm cresting the horizon.

  “Askai—come on,” Jordan whispered urgently, turning to pull him along. “They’ll be here any second. We can hide—”

  But Askai didn’t move.

  He stared ahead, jaw tight, eyes distant—as if already choosing a path that Jordan would never reach.

  Jordan’s throat began to burn, dread pouring into his veins like ice water.

  “Kai?” he whispered, his voice barely holding together. “Don’t—don’t do something stupid. Please.”

  Askai finally looked at him.

  And Jordan knew—before the words even fell—that this was goodbye.

  “Remember,” Askai said, voice low but steady, “Kael needs only one of us.”

  Jordan’s breath hitched. His world tilted.

  “Kai—no—”

  But the bike roared under Askai’s hands before Jordan could finish. The sound ripped the night apart.

  “GO!” Askai shouted, eyes fierce with a heart-breaking resolve. Then he shot forward, the machine leaping ahead like lightning, drawing every gleam of headlights and every scream of sirens after him.

  Jordan stumbled back into the shadows, hands shaking violently as the night swallowed the bike’s trail. His tears fell unchecked—hot, helpless drops carving down his cheeks—as he pressed himself against the cold concrete and listened to the storm chase the only family he had left.