THE UNEXPECTED ALLY
The air at the bar counter was thick with the scent of gin and the heavy vibration of the floorboards, but for Massimo, everything had gone eerily quiet.
His focus was entirely on the stranger who had just inserted himself into his personal space with terrifying ease.
"I'm with him," the guy repeated, his voice smooth and carrying a relaxed authority that suggested he belonged exactly where he was standing.
The girl, who had spent the last five minutes trying to crack Massimo's shell, didn't hesitate. She offered a playful, apologetic smile.
"Oh, sorry! I'll go and meet my friends then." She waved a dismissive hand and vanished into the crowd.
Massimo remained frozen. His mind, usually a hyper-efficient machine, was stalling. He didn't know this guy.
He didn't know his name, his department, or his intentions.
In the Sterling world, a stranger wasn't a friend—he was a variable.
When the girl was finally out of earshot, the guy turned fully toward Massimo.
Their gazes met—Massimo's sharp and questioning, the stranger's calm and amused.
Massimo pulled his gaze away immediately, his posture stiffening.
"Thank you," he muttered, the words feeling heavy and reluctant in his throat.
The guy just nodded, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips.
Instead of leaving, the guy leaned back against the bar counter, his elbows propped on the wood.
He took a slow, measured sip of his drink, his eyes scanning the room. Massimo watched him out of the corner of his eye.
The guy was methodical. He wasn't looking at the girls or the strobe lights; he was looking for the men in the dark jackets.
He spotted one near the hallway—the one Kamsi had just digitally crippled. The man looked frantic, clutching his ear.
The guy at the bar shifted his gaze instantly, avoiding a direct stare.
He broke the silence without looking at Massimo.
"I'm Kelvin."
Massimo finally turned his head, his brow slightly arched.
"I'm Massimo."
Kelvin let out a short, airy laugh. "Who doesn't know you on this campus?"
Massimo's expression didn't change.
"Is that a compliment?"
Kelvin just shifted his gaze back to the swirling chaos of the party.
"I saw you were uncomfortable talking with her," he said simply.
Massimo stayed quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass of his water bottle.
"Yes. I actually was. I just didn't know how to dismiss her without making a scene. Thank you for helping me out."
"You've already said that before," Kelvin replied, his voice dry but not unkind.
Massimo nodded, shifting his gaze down to his phone. He wanted to check the feed, but with Kelvin standing right there, he couldn't pull up the encrypted apps.
The silence between them stretched, taut and fragile. Kelvin swirled the ice in his cup.
"So," he started, his voice casual but piercing.
"Did you really come here alone? No friends?"
Massimo turned to him, his brow arching.
"What about you? Or didn't you come with any friends too?"
Kelvin turned to him and smiled—a slow, knowing expression that didn't reach his eyes.
"Answering questions with questions. Classic."
The smile vanished. Kelvin leaned in slightly.
"Where are your two sisters?"
Massimo's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't mentioned they were his sisters. He hadn't even mentioned he was with anyone. His eyes snapped toward the crowd.
Clara—gone.
Syndy—no sign.
Kamsi—empty corner.
The noise of the party suddenly felt distant, like it was happening behind glass.
A thin pressure formed in his chest. Panic entered his body, a cold, sharp blade of ice cutting through his veins.
He turned back to Kelvin, his jaw tight, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous warning.
"Why exactly do you ask?"
Kelvin watched him carefully now, not emotionally, but analytically.
He pointed with the rim of his glass toward a man standing by the side of the room.
The man was leaning against a pillar, his eyes fixed on the hallway Clara had disappeared into.
"Because," Kelvin whispered, "those guys haven't looked at the dance floor once.
They've only been looking at you. And now, they're looking at where your sisters went."
Massimo's grip tightened around his bottle until his knuckles turned white.
"You didn't tell anyone you were with them," Kelvin said quietly.
"So whoever's tracking you… they're not guessing."
Massimo's voice dropped. "Explain."
Kelvin spoke again, quieter now. "They're not random security."
Massimo's grip tightened even further.
The "Audit" wasn't just a paper trail anymore. It was breathing down their necks, and the walls of the room were starting to feel like a cage.