Danger ⚠️

The world outside could burn. The danger, the fear, the weight of everything waiting beyond these walls—it could all crumble to ash for just a few moments longer.

Inside this room, wrapped in the warmth of tangled limbs and soft breaths, there was only Orm and Ling. 

Ling didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to wake up, didn’t want to lose this fragile peace that felt so rare, so fleeting. Orm’s arm was draped over her waist, her fingers curled just slightly into the fabric of Ling’s shirt, like even in sleep, she was afraid to let go.

The steady rhythm of Orm’s breath against the back of her neck was grounding, soothing in a way that nothing else had been for days. Ling closed her eyes again, listening to it, memorizing it.

She almost lost this.

No—she almost threw this away.

Her throat tightened as she turned in Orm’s arms, shifting carefully so she was facing her. Orm murmured something incoherent, brows furrowing as if she could sense the movement, but she didn’t wake.

Ling exhaled shakily, brushing a strand of dark hair away from Orm’s face. She was so beautiful like this—unguarded, vulnerable in a way she rarely let the world see.

God, I love you.

She didn’t realize she had whispered it out loud until Orm stirred, eyes fluttering open.

Sleepy brown eyes met hers, still unfocused but warm, so warm. Orm blinked, her lips parting slightly. “Hmm?”

Ling swallowed. Her heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of her chest.

Now. Say it now.

"I love you."

Orm stilled, her breath catching. Fully awake now, her eyes searched Ling’s face, as if making sure she wasn’t dreaming.

Ling felt the words spill out before she could stop them, raw and trembling, like they had been locked inside for too long.

“I love you, Orm. I love you so much that it scares me. And I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve told you before everything, before the accident, before I lost my memories, before I almost lost you. Because it’s always been you.”

Orm didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The silence stretched between them, thick, suffocating, and Ling’s heart clenched.

Then—Orm surged forward.

Ling barely had time to react before Orm’s lips crashed against hers, fierce and desperate, like she was making up for every second that had been wasted. Ling melted into it instantly, her fingers slipping into Orm’s hair, pulling her closer, closer, like she could pour everything she felt into this one kiss.

Orm pulled back first, just enough to whisper against her lips, “Say it again baby.”

Ling cupped Orm’s face, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you.”

Orm let out a shaky breath, like she had been holding it in for too long. Then, so softly it was almost a prayer—“I love you too.”

Ling felt her chest tighten, something breaking apart and settling all at once.

Orm kissed her again, slower this time, like she was memorizing the shape of her, the taste of her. Then she pulled back, brushing her thumb over Ling’s cheek, eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Promise me,” Orm whispered. “No more secrets.”

Ling’s heart clenched, guilt threading through the love still burning between them.

She nodded. “No more secrets.”

Orm searched her face for a long moment, then finally—finally—nodded.

For now, at least, they had each other and nothing will stop their love.

Orm and Ling barely had time to dress before making their way downstairs, where Papa Oct was already waiting in the living room. His posture was stiff, his usual composed demeanor edged with something sharper—urgency, maybe even anger.

Ling felt it before he even spoke.

“You need to leave,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Ling’s stomach twisted. “What?”

Papa Oct’s gaze flickered to Orm. “Thanom is getting closer. Too close. He knows you’re not in your apartment anymore, and he’s using every resource he has to track you down. One of my men saw a car approaching last night—slow, circling the area like they were looking for something.” His voice dropped lower. “We need to change places again. Now.”

Orm’s jaw clenched, her fists curling at her sides. “How close are we talking?”

Papa Oct exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples before meeting her eyes. “Very close, darling.”

Ling’s pulse quickened, a sick feeling curling in her stomach. “We need to leave Bangkok.”

Papa Oct shook his head. “Not yet. But you can’t stay here.”

Orm crossed her arms. “I’m not running.”

Papa Oct’s expression darkened, his voice low, firm. “This isn’t about running. It’s about surviving long enough to end this.”

Orm hesitated, shoulders tense with resistance. Ling, still processing the weight of his words, reached for Orm’s hand, squeezing gently. She didn’t want to leave, but this wasn’t a choice anymore. This was survival.

“We go together,” she murmured, eyes locked onto Orm’s.

Orm exhaled through her nose, then finally nodded. “Alright. Where do we go?”

Papa Oct didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned to one of his men standing near the door and exchanged a silent nod.

Then, shifting his attention back to Orm and Ling, his expression turned even graver. “I’ll tell you in a bit. But first, listen carefully.”

Orm and Ling straightened unconsciously, the weight of his words settling deep.

“Orm, don’t do anything reckless.” Papa Oct’s gaze bore into her. “I mean it. If you do, I might not be able to get you out of it.”

Orm exhaled sharply but nodded. “ Yes Dad I get it.”

He then turned to Ling, his expression unreadable. “And you. Don’t use your phone, don’t log into anything connected. I have every reason to believe he’s tracking you.”

Ling’s breath hitched slightly.

“How?”

Papa Oct sighed, rubbing his chin in thought. “I don’t know the details yet. But I know men like him. He’s desperate. That makes him dangerous, and dangerous men don’t just rely on brute force—they use every tool they have.”

Ling swallowed. The weight of the past weeks settled like a stone in her chest. She had been careful—or at least she thought she had. But had Thanom always been one step ahead?

Had she led him straight to Orm?

Papa Oct’s voice softened just slightly. “Don’t blame yourself. Just be smart. Do exactly what I say, and we’ll get through this.”

Ling nodded stiffly. “Will do.”

Papa Oct didn’t linger. Without another word, he turned and strode toward the exit.

Orm watched him go, something unreadable flickering across her face. “Be careful.”

Papa Oct glanced over his shoulder. “I always am.”

Then he was gone.

__________________

The dim glow of multiple screens flickered against the walls of Thanom’s private office, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. The air was thick, suffocating, a mix of expensive whiskey, burnt-out cigars, and raw, seething rage.

His men stood before him, silent, stiff, waiting for orders.

Waiting for the storm to break.

Thanom leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the polished armrest, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His eyes were locked onto the grainy security footage displayed on the largest screen—the last confirmed location of Lingling Kwong.

She had vanished. Again.

His patience was gone.

His fingers curled around the glass of whiskey on his desk, the cool weight of it grounding him just enough to stop himself from throwing it. Slowly, deliberately, he brought it to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with an unnerving calm.

Then, with a voice dangerously smooth, he asked, “Who is protecting her?”

Silence.

His grip tightened.

“I asked you a question.”

One of his men shifted nervously. “We think… it’s Papa Oct.”

The glass in Thanom’s hand cracked slightly, the sound sharp in the thick silence.

Of course. Of course, that old bastard was behind this.

His lips curled into a slow, dark smile. “Then it’s time I pay him a visit.”

Thanom rose from his chair, moving slowly, like a predator before the kill. He reached for the knife sitting idle on his desk, turning it between his fingers, watching the light catch the blade.

“Find me a location to meet him,” he murmured, his voice like silk stretched too thin. “And make it clear that he doesn’t have a choice.”

One of his men hesitated. “What if he refuses?”

Thanom laughed. A hollow, humorless sound.

Then, without warning, he drove the knife into the wooden desk with a sickening thud.

“He won’t.”

_____________

Papa Oct stared at his phone for a long moment, the weight of the conversation settling over him like a thick fog. Thanom Ratchada. A name he had known for years—a name he had never trusted, never liked, and now, a name he would make sure disappeared.

He had underestimated how deep Thanom’s obsession ran.

Not just with Orm.

With power.

With control.

And, above all, with the belief that he was untouchable.

Papa Oct had seen this kind of man before. Hell, he had dealt with men like Thanom for decades—ruthless, power-hungry, willing to burn the world just to sit on its ashes. But Thanom?

Thanom was worse. Because Thanom had nothing left to lose.

Papa Oct sighed, rubbing his temples. You should’ve put this dog down years ago.

Because the truth was, Thanom wasn’t just some new rising force. He wasn’t just an ambitious businessman with dirty money and an inflated ego. No. He had always been this way. The boy with too much wealth, too much entitlement, too many powerful connections protecting him from the consequences of his actions.

And Papa Oct had known it from the start.

He had watched Thanom slither his way through Bangkok’s elite circles for years, masquerading as a respectable entrepreneur while operating in the shadows. He had seen the way Thanom looked at people—as if they were pawns, as if their worth was measured only by how much they could serve him.

A long time ago, before all of this, before Thanom became the monster he was today, he had tried to gain Papa Oct’s favor.

Tried to learn from him. Tried to be him.

But Thanom had never understood. Power wasn’t about brute force. It wasn’t about making people fear you. It was about earning respect. And respect? That was something Thanom Ratchada would never have.

Because Thanom had never been patient enough to build something real. He only knew how to take.

Papa Oct had seen what Thanom was becoming years ago, back when the man was still young, still trying to cement his place in Bangkok’s underbelly.

There was an unspoken rule among men like them—power could be taken, but it had to be done carefully. With precision. With subtlety.

Thanom had never been subtle.

Their first real clash had come years ago, when Thanom tried to push his way into the same circles Papa Oct ruled with ease. He had money. He had influence. But what he didn’t have?

Control. He was reckless. Sloppy. Too quick to make enemies.

And when he had come to Papa Oct for help—when he had dared to ask him to “join forces” and consolidate their power—Papa Oct had given him one answer:

No.

Thanom had not taken it well. Papa Oct had seen the fury in his eyes that night, the way he had masked it with a smirk, pretending to be unaffected. But he had known, even then, that Thanom wasn’t the kind of man to accept defeat gracefully.

And now, years later, here they were. The foolish boy had become a dangerous man.

And now, he was coming for what wasn’t his and will never be:

Orm.

Thanom thought he had won because he had money, connections, and men willing to do his bidding.

But Thanom had forgotten one thing—Papa Oct had lived this life longer than he had. And if Thanom wanted war? He’d get it.

Papa Oct took a deep breath and started the car.

It was time to end this.

The location Thanom sent was an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. A predictable move—neutral ground, isolated, easy to control.

Papa Oct had been in places like this before. Had walked into meetings where men thought they had the upper hand, only to realize too late that they were playing a game they didn’t understand.

He stepped out of the car, his expression unreadable, his pace steady. He wasn’t armed—not visibly, at least—but that didn’t mean he was unprepared.

Thanom was already waiting inside, leaning against a metal table, his usual smirk plastered on his face. His men flanked the room, standing in the shadows like obedient dogs, waiting for their master’s command.

Papa Oct didn’t slow, didn’t falter, didn’t give Thanom the satisfaction of showing even the slightest hesitation.

“You’ve grown old, Papa Oct.”

Thanom’s voice was smooth, almost amused, but there was an edge to it, a barely concealed frustration lurking beneath the surface.

Papa Oct stopped a few feet away, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. “And yet, I’m still here. Can’t say the same for most men who cross me.”

Thanom’s smirk widened. “I would’ve thought you’d be smarter than this. Protecting a girl who has nothing to do with you? Risking everything for her?” He tilted his head. “What’s your angle, old man?”

Papa Oct didn’t blink. “This isn’t about angles, Thanom. This is about principle. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

Thanom laughed, shaking his head. “Principle? Don’t insult me. You and I both know how this world works.”

His expression darkened, the amusement bleeding away. “I want her.”

Papa Oct exhaled slowly. “Not happening.”

Thanom’s jaw clenched. “I wasn’t asking.”

Papa Oct studied him carefully. “And what do you plan to do if I say no? Kill me? You think that’ll solve your problem?”

Thanom’s fingers twitched slightly—he hadn’t expected this level of defiance.

“You think I’m afraid of you?” Thanom sneered.

Papa Oct smiled, slow and knowing. “No. But you should be.”

Silence.

Thanom’s men shifted uneasily.

Because there was something about the way Papa Oct stood there, unshaken, unimpressed, as if he had already won before the conversation had even started.

Thanom leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You don’t know what you’re doing, old man. You’re protecting someone who’s already dead. The moment I find her, I will make sure she never sees another sunrise.”

Papa Oct’s eyes darkened. Then, before Thanom could react, he stepped forward—too close, too fast, too controlled.

His voice dropped low, steady, filled with something terrifyingly certain. “And if you ever lay a hand on her, I will bury you so deep in this city that not even your own men will be able to find you.”

Thanom stilled.

Something flickered in his eyes—doubt, maybe even fear—but it was gone just as quickly.

Papa Oct took a step back, straightening his jacket. “You don’t scare me, Thanom. And if you think you can win this, you’re already dead.”

He didn’t wait for any answer and left the warehouse as quickly as he arrived, not letting Thanom the time to react. What Thanom didn’t know is that now, Papa Oct knew better his state of mind.

Thanom’s lips curled, but it wasn’t a smirk anymore.

It was something darker.

Something dangerous.

This wasn’t over.

But for the first time, Thanom realized—maybe, just maybe, he had finally picked a fight he couldn’t win.

______________

Orm and Ling were going outside the villa to leave when the first gunshot shattered the fragile peace.

It happened too fast—the quiet before the storm gone in an instant. Ling barely had time to react. The echo of gunfire slammed into her chest like a sledgehammer, her instincts screaming move, move, move! before her brain caught up.

Then—Orm’s sharp intake of breath. The sound of something hitting the ground.

Ling turned.

And her world collapsed.

“ORM!”

Her voice tore through the chaos, raw and broken, as she lunged toward her. Orm was on the ground, her face twisted in pain, her hands clutching at her side—at the deep, dark stain blooming through her shirt.

Blood. Too much blood.

No. No, no, no.

Her breath hitched, her hands shaking as she pressed against the wound, trying to stop the impossible. “Stay with me baby. Just—just hold on, okay? We’re getting out of here.”

Orm exhaled sharply, forcing a smirk that shouldn’t be there. “Damn… that’s gonna ruin my jacket.”

Her jacket?!

She was shot.

Ling let out a shaky laugh, half-hysterical, half-despairing. “Are you serious right now?”

Orm winced but didn’t let go of the smirk. “What? You love this jacket.”

The car. They had to get to the car.

“MOVE!” one of Papa Oct’s men barked, returning fire as bullets tore through the air.

More shots. More shouting.

Ling snapped out of it. Orm first. Get her out of here. Then she’d deal with the rest.

The bodyguards flanked them, shielding them as Ling and another man hauled Orm up, her weight heavy against them.

“Where’s my father?” Orm gritted out through clenched teeth.

“He’s safe. We’re getting you to him,” one of the bodyguards answered. “But we have to move now!”

Ling didn’t need to be told twice. She tightened her grip around Orm, forcing herself to stay steady as they ran. The world blurred around her—the sound of gunfire, the chaos, the fear.

But all Ling could focus on was Orm’s breathing.

Shallow. Uneven.

Stay with me.

They reached the SUV, the doors flung open as one of the guards jumped into the driver’s seat.

They shoved Orm inside. Ling followed.

The car peeled off.

The gunfire faded into the distance.

But Ling’s hands were still soaked in Orm’s blood. Her pulse pounded as she cradled Orm’s head in her lap, pressing against the wound, willing the bleeding to stop.

Orm’s eyes fluttered, and Ling shook her head violently. “No, don’t you dare close your eyes.”

Orm hummed weakly, voice barely above a whisper. “M’just resting…”

“Baby please, stay awake for me okay!” Ling’s voice cracked.

The guards in the car exchanged quick glances, but no one said a word.

“Where are we going?” Ling demanded.

“The boss has a safehouse. We’ll meet him there. Doctors are waiting.”

Safe. They needed to be safe. They needed to take care of Orm.

Ling exhaled shakily, brushing damp hair from Orm’s forehead.

“You idiot,” she whispered. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You cannot be hurt”

Orm’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And you can?.”

Ling pressed a kiss to her temple, ignoring the burn in her throat. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Orm let out a tired chuckle. “I know.”

Ling wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not ever.

And Thanom?

He just made his last mistake.

Orm was barely conscious when they pulled her out of the car.

The safehouse was hidden in the hills, far from Bangkok’s chaos, but right now, it felt more like a prison. Ling ran ahead as the security team carried Orm inside, her blood staining the white bandages they had hastily wrapped around her wound.

“She’s losing too much blood,” one of the guards said. “We need the doctor now.”

Ling barely heard them. Her entire world had narrowed to Orm—Orm, whose face was too pale, whose breathing was too shallow.

“Orm,” Ling whispered, kneeling beside her as they laid her on the bed. “Stay with me.”

Orm’s lashes fluttered, her lips parting as she tried to focus on Ling. “I’m… fine…”

“You’re not fine,” Ling snapped, voice thick with emotion. “You were shot, Orm. Shot. And you’re telling me you’re fine?”

Orm’s lips twitched weakly. “I mean… I’ve had worse…”

Ling’s throat tightened. How could she joke right now? How could she still try to put her at ease when she was the one bleeding?

The doctor arrived, pushing Ling aside. “We need space.”

Ling didn’t want to move, didn’t want to let go of her hand. But Papa Oct stepped in, his large, steady hand on her shoulder.

“Let them work,” he said softly.

Ling swallowed hard. Then she did something she never thought she’d do. She let go of Orm.

The night air was thick and heavy, pressing down on her like a weight she couldn’t shake. Ling leaned against the wall outside, sucking in deep breaths, but they did nothing to ease the crushing panic in her chest.

She pressed her hands over her face, trying to steady herself, but the moment she closed her eyes, all she could see was Orm bleeding, Orm’s body going limp, Orm’s voice growing weaker.

This was her fault.

She had dragged Orm into this. She had kept secrets. She had convinced herself she was protecting Orm, but now Orm was the one hurt.

Ling choked back a sob, clenching her fists. “Stupid… so fucking stupid…”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out with shaking hands. Mae Koy.

Ling hesitated. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to explain. But her thumb moved on its own, answering the call.

“Ling?” Mae Koy’s voice was sharp, worried. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Ling opened her mouth, but no words came.

“Ling?”

Ling sucked in a breath, and then—it hit her all at once. The fear. The guilt. The sheer overwhelming love she felt for Orm and the terror of almost losing her.

“I—” Ling’s voice cracked.

Mae Koy went quiet on the other end. Then, softer, “What happened?”

Ling gripped the phone like a lifeline.

“She got hurt,” she finally whispered. “Orm… she got hurt because of me.”

A sharp inhale. Then, “How bad?”

“She was shot,” Ling admitted, voice barely above a breath. Saying it out loud made it worse. Made it real.

Mae Koy didn’t respond right away. Then, finally, “Is she okay?”

Ling closed her eyes, shaking. “I don’t know.”

Another silence. Then, Mae Koy’s voice turned gentle.

“She’ll be fine. I know my daughter, she is strong. You love her Ling right?” she said.

Ling’s breath hitched. She had always known it. Had always felt it. But this fear? This gut-wrenching, earth-shattering fear of losing Orm?

It was love. Not just the kind that burned bright and passionate, but the kind that hurt, the kind that could break her.

“Yeah,” Ling whispered. “I do. With all my heart Mae.”

Mae Koy’s voice was steady. “Then fight for her. Don’t let fear take that away. You can’t run away ok? I’ll be there in a few, don’t do anything reckless, stay with Papa Oct.”

Ling’s grip on the phone tightened. She had almost lost Orm. Almost lost the person who had always been hers. She wasn’t going to let that happen again.

___________________________

The room was silent—thick, suffocating, one second away from chaos.

Thanom stood motionless, his breathing eerily steady as he stared at the man in front of him—the man who had failed him.

“You shot the wrong person.” His voice was deathly calm, too calm. A warning before the storm.

The man swallowed hard, stepping back slightly. “Boss, it—it wasn’t supposed to happen. She moved at the last second—”

Thanom let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “You had one job.”

His fingers twitched. His muscles coiled tight.

The idiot kept talking, trying to justify, trying to make it better—but nothing could make it better.

“You put a bullet in the wrong person,” Thanom continued, voice still cold, almost detached. “And now, instead of having Lingling Kwong bleeding out in some alley, I have Orm Kornnaphat—”

His eye twitched. His breath turned sharp.

“—MY ORM—lying in some bed, with her fucking lover hovering over her.”

His pulse thundered in his ears.

He saw red.

His gun was in his hand before the idiot could blink.

Bang.

The shot echoed through the room.

The man barely had time to gasp before his body collapsed to the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

Thanom exhaled slowly, lowering the gun, his hand rock steady. The scent of gunpowder mixed with the iron tang of blood, but he didn’t look at the body. He didn’t care.

He turned to the rest of his men, who stood frozen, barely breathing.

“You’re all disposable.” His voice was empty. “Remember that.”

No one spoke. No one dared.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Thanom reached for his phone and sat back down, crossing his legs casually, pressing the still-warm barrel of the gun against his temple as he exhaled.

Orm was hurt. Not Ling. Orm.

His plans were unraveling, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He was done playing games.

His phone vibrated. A message.

His eyes flickered down to the screen, and then they narrowed.

The message was from Papa Oct.

You put your hands on my daughter.
You’re a dead man.

Thanom’s lips twitched into a grin, but there was nothing amused about it.

So the old bastard had finally stepped forward.

Papa Oct had played his games for too long, pretending to be untouchable.

But Thanom had always known he was the real obstacle.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the message sink in.

____________________________________

“Absolutely not.”

Papa Oct’s voice was steel, unwavering.

Ling stood in front of him, arms crossed, eyes blazing.

“I’m going with you.”

Papa Oct didn’t even blink. “You’re staying here.”

“No.” Ling’s voice was sharp, unshakable. “You don’t get to make that choice for me.”

“I do.” Papa Oct met her gaze, calm but firm. “Because you think with your heart, and right now, that’s a liability.”

Ling clenched her fists. Her heart? Her heart was the reason Orm was still alive.

“She’s hurt because of me.” Ling’s voice cracked slightly, but she straightened. “And now, Thanom is coming for all of us. I’m not sitting in a house while you fight my battles.”

Papa Oct exhaled sharply. “Ling—”

“I am not leaving you to face him alone.” Ling stepped forward, eyes burning with something dangerously close to rage. “He came after Orm. After me. This is my fight too. And you know I can fight. Give me that gun now.”

Papa Oct studied her, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally, he sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered.

Ling smirked, but there was no humor in it. “So I’ve been told.”

Papa Oct’s gaze darkened. “If you come, you listen. You don’t act on your own. You do exactly as I say. Do you understand me?”

Ling nodded.

“Say it.”

“I understand,” she said quietly.

Papa Oct ran a hand down his face. “Your parents are going to kill me.”

Ling swallowed, then glanced toward the room where Orm was resting.

Mae Koy, who arrived a few minutes ago stood near the door, watching silently. She knows that her daughter will kill them but Ling wasn’t going to stay put and they couldn’t do a thing.

Ling turned back to Papa Oct. “Let’s end this.”

___________

The first thing she felt was pain. A dull, throbbing ache that pulsed through her side, radiating from where the bullet had grazed her flesh. Her head was heavy, her limbs sluggish, her body screaming at her to stay still.

But the moment Orm realized Ling wasn’t beside her, everything else stopped mattering.

Her eyes shot open. The room was dimly lit, but she knew immediately—she was alone.

No warmth beside her. No faint sound of Ling’s breathing. Something sharp curled in her chest.

Then, before she could even force herself to sit up, the door creaked open.

Mae Koy.

Orm knew instantly—from the way she stood, from the unreadable expression on her face—that something was wrong.

Orm pushed herself upright, ignoring the sharp pull of pain.

“Where is she?”

Mae Koy exhaled, closing the door behind her.

“She left with Papa Oct.”

Silence.

Then—Orm swung her legs over the bed, already pushing herself up to stand. But the pain was too much.

Mae Koy stepped forward instantly, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. “Orm, stop. You need to—”

Orm shoved her off. “She left?” Her voice was sharp, disbelieving, furious.

Mae Koy’s gaze hardened. “She didn’t have a choice. She wasn’t going to let Papa Oct go alone.”

Orm’s breath came fast, erratic, her head spinning.

“Where?”

Mae Koy hesitated.

“WHERE, MAE?”

“She didn’t tell me,” Mae admitted, but her eyes flickered, just slightly.

She was lying.Orm’s blood boiled.

“She left me.”

“No,” Mae said, voice softer now. “She’s trying to end this for you.”

Orm clenched her jaw. “She shouldn’t have to.”

Mae Koy sighed, shaking her head. “I know.”

Then, her phone buzzed.

Orm’s stomach dropped.

She looked at Mae Koy.

Neither of them moved.

Then—slowly, carefully—Mae Koy picked up her phone, checked the screen, and exhaled.

“It’s from Papa Oct.”

Orm’s heart pounded.

Mae Koy looked up, locking eyes with her.

Then, she read the message aloud.

“She’s with me. Stay where you are. I’ll bring her back to you I promise.”