(Time skips to when she goes to the party. She is searching for Felix. And also one thing, Aries doesn't know about kiko's character. He thought he is nice. So, when he came to know that he wanted to court jay, he supported him. He even tried to force. But you know jay, she is only keifers)
JAY'S POV :
I am searching for Felix. Fuck—his phone's showing a location here, but I can't find him anywhere. Suddenly, a hand clamps onto my arm and yanks me close.
"WHAT THE FUCK?! GET AWAY FROM ME!" I snap, twisting to break free.
The man staggers back. When I look up, Kiko is standing there, expression unreadable. He shoved the attacker like he'd pushed a stray dog off the sidewalk.
"Are you okay?!" he asks, breath rough.
I only manage a shaky nod.
"Yes—thank you."
Before I can push away, he takes my hand and starts guiding me through the crowd. His grip is too firm; he keeps his arm draped over my shoulder, but I peel it off the moment I can.
"You shouldn't be walking alone. What if I didn't notice you?!" he says, the worry in his voice a little too practiced.
Is he actually worried about me? Or is this all fake?
"I can handle myself." My voice comes out sharper than I mean. "I was just shocked by that man. I'm looking for Felix. Where could he be?"
"Felix? He's with our teammates."
Kiko points somewhere deeper into the party.
"Come on. I'll accompany you… but first—drink."
"I don't want to. I'm not in the mood to drink."
"Just one sip. Please," he insists, shoving a plastic cup toward me.
Something about his insistence sets my teeth on edge. I stare at the drink; it looks ordinary. I lift it, bring it close to my nose, and a faint chemical tang hits me—alcohol, yes, but something else threaded through it. My mouth goes dry.
"One sip," he repeats.
My whole body screams at me to run. Instead I play along. I take the cup to my lips, sip, and keep it in my mouth without swallowing. I hand it back, acting slightly lightheaded so he won't suspect I've been wise.
We move through the press of bodies. My vision edges gray at the corners; I force my legs to keep going, let my head swim a little to sell it. Then I see him—Felix—on the ground near the bleachers, crumpled and bleeding. Kiko's cronies cluster around him, laughing like it's a private joke.
Panic clawing my throat, I spit the drink behind my heel and bolt.
"Felix?! Felix! Are you okay?" I cry.
He's been smashed so bad he has trouble forming words. He tries.
"J-jay, p-please leave f-from h-here. T-they p-pla—"
"Don't talk, you're hurt," I say gently, crouching beside him. "I'll take care of you."
"B-bu—"
"Tss. Shut up." I grit my teeth and look up.
Kiko freezes where he stands, surprised. His friends' smirks falter—no one expected me to outsmart them. I push myself to my feet, fury hot and steady.
"How dare you hurt Felix?" My voice drops low.
The air around us suddenly seems to hold its breath.
Kiko's laugh is soft and cruel.
"So clever. But you're not strong enough to fight us, babe"
I smirked, but it's a razor.
"Try me."
One of his friends steps forward—tall, ringed fingers ready to snatch me. My first move is instinct over choreography: a low sweep that hooks his ankle and knocks him off balance; he hits the ground with a dull thud. Not brutal; just enough to take him out of the fight.
Another lunges as I turn—this one brings a fist. I duck, drive my shoulder into his midsection, and shove him into the metal railing. He bounces off, breath knocked from him.
Three more advance at once. I keep my feet moving—sidestepping one punch, grabbing the wrist of the second and twisting, forcing him into the third, then driving an elbow under the jaw. The third staggers, more stunned than broken. They collapse in a messy heap, groaning—conscious, humiliated, not dead.
Kiko's mouth thins.
"So, You're strong. But you can't handle all of us. And nobody comes to save you. Your friends aren't here. Aries isn't here."
I laugh, low and sure.
"I don't call them. I don't need them. Handling you isn't a big thing for me."
His next words are a smear of contempt.
"You won't leave until feel you. Completely. Every part."
The rest of them lunging at once.
The first wave pins me, two hands on my upper arms, another on my shoulder. I throw a knee into someone's thigh; he howls and loosens his grip. I twist free, spin, and drive a palm into a jaw. Heads snap back. They're rough but inexperienced, and I read their balance well.
Still, they manage to hold me from behind, a vice of arms across my torso. Panic edges in—my mouth tastes metallic, my teeth ache. I'm about to wrench free when Kiko steps forward again, holding the same cup—the one I'd only tasted. His smirk is a smear of victory.
"You'll drink," he says.
They yank me to my feet, dragging me upright. Four hands now—two on my arms, one on my shoulder, one locking my wrist. Kiko tilts the cup toward my lips. I bite down, trying to spit, but they twist my head. The liquid splashes into my mouth. I swallow a little before I can stop it. The warmth slides down, thicker and slower than before. My vision blurs, my limbs drag. The world tilts like a camera on a loose tripod.
I hit my head back into the nearest chest—hard enough to earn gasps and a loosened grip. Then I drive my forehead into the metal edge of a nearby bench. The impact is sharp, brutal, and bright. Pain tears through my skull, and for a second everything goes white—but the dizziness snaps back. I'm shaking, but I'm awake.
"Jay!" Calix shouts, already moving.
Calix hits Kiko first—hard, clean, a shoulder that sends him stumbling into a crate. Kiko crashes down, cursing, blood smearing his lip. Calix doesn't stop; he pivots and throws a punch into the jaw of one of my captors. The guy staggers, letting go of my arm. Another tries to grab me from behind; Calix grabs his wrist, twists, and drives a knee into his ribs. The boy folds, gasping for air.
We're suddenly fighting back‑to‑back—me still dizzy, him sharp and precise.
"Jay, your head is bleeding," Calix snaps, blocking a punch aimed at my side.
"Sit down!"
"I'm not sitting," I grit out, ducking under an arm and driving a knee into someone's ribs. "If I sit, they win."
My head swims again. I stumble, hit my head against the metal leg of a chair—once, twice—sharp bursts of pain that keep the dizziness at bay. I wince, but my legs stay under me.
"Jay, please," Calix says, voice tight. "Let me handle this. You're not even standing straight."
"Then stand in front of me," I reply, driving my elbow into a jaw. "But I'm not sitting."
We move together now—him taking the brunt of the stronger hits, me slipping in the openings. He draws two of them in, then steps back so I can sweep one's legs. The guy hits the floor hard. Another lunges at me; Calix grabs his arm mid‑swing and throws him into the bleachers with a thud.
"Calix," one of the attackers spits, "you're hitting too hard."
"Good," Calix says coldly. "Maybe you'll remember it."
I hit my head against the metal railing again—another sharp crack to keep myself present. Blood trickles down my temple, mixing with sweat, but I keep moving. I duck a clumsy punch, twist a wrist, and slam the guy into the ground. He groans, more stunned than broken.
"Jay, sit down!" Calix says again, breathing hard. "You're not okay. Let me finish this for you."
I glare at him, dizzy but furious. "It's my fight. Not yours. I'm not done."
"Then at least let me cover you," he snaps back, stepping in front of me as another boy swings at us.
Calix blocks, then counters with a hard punch to the jaw. The guy stumbles back, dazed.
We're both bruised now—Calix's knuckles split, his sleeve torn; my head pounding, my knees shaking. But we're still there, still standing, still fighting. I hit my head against the metal bench once more when the room starts to spin; the pain is sharp, but it's better than passing out.
"Jay, please," Calix says one last time, voice strained. "Just five seconds. Sit for five seconds."
I shake my head, even though it makes the dizziness worse. "No," I say, more firmly than I feel. "I'm not done until I'm sure Felix is okay."
We keep going—Calix taking the stronger blows, me slipping in for the quick ones. He draws them in; I slip out, twist, strike. He blocks for me when my balance wavers; I block for him when they gang up. We're not a perfect team, but we're enough.
Eventually, the others begin to fall—slower, dazed, more bruised than broken. Kiko is on his back, one hand on his lip, the other pressed to his ribs. He looks up at us, eyes wide with something like shock. I'm the one who's still standing, but Calix is right there beside me, breathing hard, face tight with anger.
We're both covered in sweat, blood, and bruises—but we're still on our feet.
I crouch beside Felix, checking his face, pressing my fingers to the cut on his temple. I put my hand on his cheek, checking his pulse and the way his eyes focus.
"You're really awake," I mutter under my breath, relief mixing with the pain in my skull.
Felix coughs once, lashes fluttering, then opens his eyes.
"J-jay?" he croaks.
"I'm here." I help him sit up slowly. "You're okay. Breathe."
Mica keeps a cloth pressed to his head.
"We need to get him somewhere safe."
Calix steps up, face tight.
"Jay, your head is bleeding. At least let me—"
I shrug him off.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine," he says sharply. "You're hitting your own head to stay awake. That's not fine. Please, sit down."
I ignore the dizziness threatening to pull me under.
"I'm not passing out on their floor. Not until I'm sure Felix is okay."
I hobble toward Kiko, ignoring the way the world spins around the edges. I crouch and look him in the eye. He flinches.
"This is my last warning," I say, my voice low and steady. "Don't you dare touch me or Section E again. Next time, you'll be in hell."
I slam my forehead lightly against his—the contact is sharp enough to make him wince, but it's mostly for me: the pain keeps the fog from rolling back over. I stand, my vision swimming, but I force my legs to obey.
"Jay, you're hurting yourself too much," Calix says, hovering near me, voice strained. "Let's go."
"Jay, your head is bruised and bleeding. Let's go," Mica adds, stepping closer.
"I'm okay," I say, though my voice is rougher now, my breathing fast. "I'm not done yet."
I stagger toward the exit, every step a fight against the dizziness. I hit my head against the metal railing one more time—just enough to keep the world from tilting completely. My vision grays, but I stay upright.
"Jay! You need to sit down!" Calix says again, grabbing my arm.
"Not yet," I mutter, pulling free. "I'm not done."
Someone yells my name from the entrance. Keifer and the rest of Section E are there, faces carved in worry and anger. Relief shafts through me at the sight of them, and it drains some of the steadiness out of my legs.
"Keifer…" I whisper, and the world tilts.
I sway; consciousness slips at the edges. I slam my hand against the metal railing again—once, twice—sharp bursts of pain that keep me upright for a few more seconds. Then strong arms sweep under me. Aries. His hold is immediate and sure. The last thing I see before the dark takes me is his face, eyes wide enough to be honest, and then everything goes blank.
ARIES' POV :
I and Ella were roaming the edges of the party, trying to stay out of the noise, when a shout cuts through the bass and chatter.
"Keifer!"
The name hits my chest like a punch. I'm already turning, already moving, before I even see her.
Jay.
She's collapsing, and I don't think—only run. I catch her as she slumps, close enough to feel her heart drumming against my arm. She's hot, her face pale, blood smeared at her hairline. I can see dried streaks on her temple.
I lower her to the couch in the VIP corner fast, hands steady even though my mind is not. I pat her cheek harder than I should.
"Jay. Jay," I say, my voice sharp, clipped, like I'm ordering her awake.
I am not used to being helpless. Not with my family. She is.
Someone steps up—Section E, faces like carved stone. Keifer is at the front, jaw tight, eyes burning with something like rage and something like fear.
"Why the fuck are all you people here?!" I snap, my tone sharper than I mean.
I don't want them here. I don't want them to see me like this.
Keifer's glare cuts back.
"Asking the one who can't take care of his own cousin?" he spits. I feel it like a slap.
"Aries, Kiko beat Felix and tried to harm Jay," Mica says, her voice trembling but clear. "So I called them. He planned something bad for her."
My stomach drops. Kiko? The one I tried to force Jay to court? The one I pushed her toward because I thought he was nice?
"What?" I say, disbelief thick on my tongue.
"See it for yourself," Keifer says, pointing.
I follow his hand. Felix is on the floor, being lifted by two of Section E. His lip is split, his temple is cut, one eye already swelling. He's breathing, but it's shallow, unsteady.
Guilt slams into me like a train. I forced my cousin to be courted by this man. I wanted it to "work out." I told her to give him a chance.
I look down, fists clenching so hard my knuckles pop. My vision blurs for a second, and I realize—tears are building. I blink them back fast, rough, furious. I am not going to cry here, not in front of them.
"Section E," Keifer says, his voice low but loud enough to cut through the air.
"Make sure no one can play basketball anymore. Forever."
The words settle like a sentence. I stay quiet, watching Section E fans move toward the gym, the court, the trophies, the hearts that beat around the game. I can't stop them. I can't even look at them.
I look at Jay again. She's unconscious, pale, blood drying at her hairline, her breathing uneven. I did this. I pushed her toward him. I told her, "he's nice, give him a chance." I even tried to force her.
I'm a bad brother. I'm the one who let this happen.
"Keifer." My voice cracks, and I hate it.
He turns, eyes still sharp, still judging.
"I don't know what to tell her when she wakes up," I say, low, raw. "Take her with you. Please. I can't face her."
He stares at me, calculating, then nodding slowly. He steps forward and lifts Jay in a bridal carry—firm, practical, gentle, like he did it a thousand times. He looks me in the eye, and I can't see anything but disappointment and something like pity. I can't look away.
"Section E, let's go," he says quietly, already turning.
I stay there, standing in the middle of the VIP corner, suddenly smaller than I ever felt. I can't show my face to her anymore. Not like this. Not after this.
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Guys, the next chapters can delay for a bit. I know I'm already posting a bit late. But this time it may be more late cause I have an important work to do. Students problems, bro. I'll finish it as soon as possible.
Your author,
Cris…