Zhan's Pov
I woke up without a headache. Surprising, considering the storm that blew through this house last night. Maybe my body just decided it was done being weighed down by other people's tempers. Or maybe I was just too tired to care anymore. Either way, I slept. I actually slept.
The house was quiet when I rolled out of bed. Too quiet. A heavy kind of quiet. I picked up my phone and shot a quick message to Dre.
Me: Where are you?
Dre: My room.
No emoji. No sarcasm. Just two words. That alone told me enough.
I walked down the hall and knocked once before Dre opened the door and walked to the bed. The sight stopped me cold. Dre was sitting at the edge of his bed, shirtless, head in his hands. He looked like he'd been hit by a truck carrying a thousand bricks, eyes swollen, face pale, shoulders slumped.
"Dre..." I whispered.
His head snapped up, and the pain in his expression made my chest tighten. Not anger. Not defiance. Just pure exhaustion, the kind that goes beyond the body and sinks straight into the soul.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I just stood there, leaning against the doorframe, trying to decide if I should step closer or let him breathe.
Finally, he gave a bitter laugh that sounded more like a sob. "You came to see the wreckage?"
I shook my head slowly. "No. I came to see my friend."
His jaw clenched, and he looked away. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped at his face.
Last night's venom replayed in my head, the shouting, the accusations, the way Ezra's words cut, the way Dre's voice cracked when he finally broke. And here he was now, broken still, but quiet.
I crossed the room slowly and sat beside him. For a while, I didn't say anything, I just let the silence hang between us, heavy but not unbearable. He didn't push me away, and that was already something.
"You look like hell," I murmured, trying to coax even a half-smile out of him.
"Thanks," Dre muttered, voice hoarse. "You should see how I feel."
I let that hang before leaning forward, elbows on my knees. "You know... this isn't the first time we've been cornered. Or broken. Or humiliated. It's not even the worst. Remember when we had nothing but scraps and still laughed our way through the night?"
His lips twitched, but his eyes stayed dim.
"Remember the prison? The tortures, sleeping on floors we didn't know if we'd wake up from?" I continued. "We've walked through worse fire than last night's. And we're still here. Breathing. Sitting. Drinking bad coffee in expensive houses like we earned the damn right to exist."
Dre gave a shaky laugh, dragging a hand over his face. "Yeah. And every time, I thought we wouldn't make it. But somehow we did."
"Exactly," I said softly. "We've overcome every obstacle thrown at us, chains, bullets, hunger, betrayal. You think a few ugly words will be the thing that breaks us? No, Dre. That's not us. We're too damn stubborn to fall apart now."
His eyes finally met mine, glassy but alive again. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is," I said with a shrug. "We survive. That's what we do. And maybe one day, we'll do more than just survive. But for now? We keep standing. Together. Always together."
For the first time since I walked in, Dre smiled, small, tired, but real.
And for me, that was enough.
"Let me make breakfast for you," I said quietly, already rising to head toward the kitchen.
"No." His voice stopped me. Dre turned, his face streaked with pain, his eyes glassy but fierce. "I'm leaving, Zhan."
The words hit harder than I expected.
He shook his head, almost trembling. "I can't be with Ezra after last night. He hurt me more than anyone ever has. He can't use my past as a weapon. I loved him more than anyone I've been with, and he just..." Dre's voice cracked, but he pushed through. "...he tore that apart with one stupid sentence."
I took a step closer. "I know," I whispered. "I know you love him. And I know it hurts. But, Dre..." My chest tightened. "...we're so close. So close to getting the people who sent us to prison, the ones who ruined our lives. Don't walk away when the finish line is right in front of us."
He turned his face away, jaw tight. "I don't care about that anymore. I don't have the strength left in me. Not for this. Not for revenge. Not for him."
For a second, I almost let him go. Almost. But then I thought of everything we'd endured, everything that had brought us here.
I stepped right in front of him, forcing his eyes to meet mine. "Then do it for me," I said firmly. "Let's finish this. Let's get to them. And I promise you, after that, I won't ask you to stay. You can leave, run, disappear, burn every bridge if that's what you want. But not before we end this. Not before we make sure they never hurt us or anyone again."
Dre's chest kept rising and falling, his fists clenching and unclenching like he was wrestling with himself. For a long moment, all I heard was the sound of his breathing, harsh and uneven.
Finally, he dragged both hands over his face and let out a rough laugh that broke into a sob. "Damn you, Zhan." His voice cracked. "Damn you for knowing exactly what to say."
I didn't answer. I just waited.
He shook his head, shoulders sagging. "Fine. I'll stay. But not for Ezra. Not for Wang. Not even for me." He looked at me with eyes so raw I almost flinched. "I'll stay for you. Just you. And when this is over... I'm gone."
Relief washed through me, sharp and heavy. I wanted to hug him, but I knew better than to push too far. So I just nodded once and whispered, "That's enough."
He exhaled, long and shaky, and sank onto the bed like the fight had drained out of him. I sat beside him, silent, letting the morning light filter through the curtains while the weight of his words hung between us.
For now, he was still here. That was all that mattered.
Breakfast? I ask and he nods standing up.
When Dre and I stepped into the living room, the first thing I saw was her.
Ziyi.
Sitting in the chair across from Wang and Ezra, a glass of wine half-finished in her hand. Her legs crossed, posture stiff, like she'd been caught in a trap but was too proud to show it.
My lips curled into a smile that wasn't really a smile at all. "Hello, Ziyi," I said softly, letting the words hang in the air like a knife.
Her eyes darted to me, wide for a second before she masked it with that practiced chin tilt. She didn't answer.
I didn't care. My chest felt lighter than it had in days. She was here. Right here. And for the first time since walking out of that cell, I felt like I was finally holding the cards.
Without another word, I walked into the kitchen, Dre trailing behind me. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, but I busied myself pulling out eggs, milk, and flour.
"Pancakes and scrambled eggs," I muttered. "Simple but good."
Dre leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching me work. "She looks like she's about to piss herself," he said under his breath, smirking.
"Good," I replied, cracking eggs into the bowl with more force than necessary. "She should."
From the kitchen, I could hear low murmurs, Ezra's smooth tone, Wang's quiet but steady voice, and Ziyi's sharp replies, laced with nerves.
The whisk in my hand moved faster. This wasn't just breakfast. This was power. For once, we weren't the ones cornered.
The pancakes turned golden in the pan, the eggs fluffy just the way Dre liked them. By the time I plated everything, the voices in the living room had quieted, but the silence that followed wasn't peaceful. It was charged.
Carrying the tray, I stepped out and set it on the low table in front of them.
"Breakfast," I said simply, sliding into the chair beside Wang.
Ziyi gave me a tight smile, her fingers coiled around the stem of her wine glass. "You cook now?" she asked, her tone light, almost playful, but her knuckles were white.
"Always have," I replied, cutting into the pancakes with deliberate calm. "Prison teaches you to make the best of scraps. Compared to that, this is luxury."
Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she covered it with a sip of wine.
Ezra, ever smooth, leaned back and said, "You should try some, Ziyi. Best pancakes you'll ever eat."
"I'm not hungry," she replied quickly, too quickly.
Dre chuckled low, sliding into his seat. "Scared we poisoned it?"
Her eyes flicked to him, sharp as glass. "I'm not scared of any of you."
But her hand trembled slightly as she set her glass back down.
I met her gaze across the table, steady, unflinching. "Then eat."
The room went quiet again. Even the ticking of the clock on the wall felt louder. She hesitated, her mask slipping just a little, before forcing a laugh.
"You're all ridiculous," she said, brushing her hair back, her voice shaky under the veneer. "It's just breakfast."
"Yes," Wang murmured beside me, his voice like steel wrapped in silk. "Just breakfast."
And yet, the air felt like a noose tightening around her throat.
"Ziyi," I said, my voice low, almost casual, though my pulse was pounding in my ears. "I've always imagined what I'd do when I finally caught you."
Her lips twitched, the mask almost slipping.
"I'd watch," I continued, leaning forward, my words slicing the air, "as men tore you apart the way you let your friends tear me apart. Over and over again, until you begged for death."
For the first time, her hand jerked. Just a flicker. Her eyes stayed calm, but I saw it, the crack in her armor.
"And your little minions?" I added, reaching into her bag. She stiffened but didn't move. I pulled her phone free, unlocked it easily, and scrolled through her contacts. "I already have plans for them."
Ezra raised a brow, catching on as I slid the phone across to him. "Type their numbers," I said.
My voice was steady, but my fingers were trembling with the fury I'd kept buried for years.
Ezra tapped quickly, his expression smooth as ever, before lifting his phone. "Pool party," he said lightly into the receiver. "Your precious cousin's hosting."
One by one, the names flashed across the hacked monitor. Calls answered. Excuses dropped. Laughter, then agreement.
One by one, they promised to come.
And when Ezra ended the last call, he leaned back, smirking faintly. "They will come."
I turned back to Ziyi, whose smile had vanished completely now. Her eyes were wide, her breath quick but shallow, and for the first time she looked... small.
I leaned in, close enough that she could feel the venom in my whisper.
"Welcome to my party, Ziyi. The kind you don't walk away from."
Ziyi leaned back in her chair, that dark, mocking laugh spilling from her lips. It grated like broken glass against my ears.
"Dre," she purred, tilting her head, eyes glinting, "don't you miss your ex-boyfriend?"
Dre didn't even glance at her. He just stabbed at his eggs with his fork and chewed, his silence louder than any answer.
Ziyi chuckled again, shaking her head. "I don't know who I should feel sorry for." Her eyes flicked between us like a snake tasting the air.
Then her voice sharpened, low and poisonous. "Did you know Wang killed your ex-boyfriend?"