They all woke up one morning to a quiet, unsettling realization—someone was missing from the house.
At first, no one noticed.
Jasmine was the first to get out of bed. Without a second thought, he reached for his phone, scrolling through it as he moved around, completely unaware that something wasn't right.
He scrolled through Twitter, pausing when something caught hisattention. After reacting to it, he headed down the hallway and knocked on Dave's door.
No answer.
Frowning, Jasmine pushed the door open and stepped inside, expecting to find him sprawled across the bed, still fast asleep.
But the room was empty.
His closet doors hung open, nearly bare, with only a few pieces of clothing left on the hangers.
Jasmine's brows knit together in confusion. How did Dave leave without telling anyone?
A chill crept in as he turned and hurried downstairs.
In the living room, Blake, Tyler, Malik, and Peter were busy wrapping coke, tossing the packets aside and sealing them into small sachets.
Dave wasn't there.
"Where's Dave?" Jasmine asked, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.
Tyler barely looked up. "In his room, I guess," he said casually.
Jasmine's expression hardened. "His room is completely empty. There's no sign of him.
""Is he trying to play games with us?" Blake snapped, tension rising in his voice.
Before anyone could respond, heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs.
Boss.
He came down fast, eyes sharp, presence cutting through the room like a blade. "Where's Dave?" he demanded, his voice loud, harsh—borderline furious.
The room went still.
The guys froze, exchanging uneasy glances. The easy rhythm they'd been working in vanished instantly.
"Boss… we were just about to ask the same thing," Tyler said carefully.
A beat of silence.
"Or maybe he traveled?" Peters muttered, though even he didn't sound convinced.
Jasmine shook his head, hisvoice tight. "No. That doesn't make sense. Dave wouldn't leave without saying something. Not even to the cooks or the cleaners."
That did it.
A heavy, suffocating tension settled over the room.
"Spread out," Boss ordered, his tone low but deadly. "Find him."
No one hesitated.
They scattered in different directions, urgency replacing confusion. Jasmine rushed toward the drawing room, hisheart pounding harder with every step. Peters and Malik took the stairs two at a time, heading upstairs to search the sunroom and the upper floor.
Blake and Diego moved fast, checking every bedroom—throwing doors open, scanning every corner, every shadow.
But the house suddenly felt too quiet.
Too empty.
And with every passing second, one thought grew louder—
Dave didn't just leave.
Something was wrong.
They searched every corner of the mansion—back doors, windows, even the hidden spots no one ever used. Nothing. Not a single clue about where Dave had gone.
Tyler pulled out his phone and dialed Dave's number.
It rang.
Loud.
Everyone froze.
Tyler followed the sound, his chest tightening as he moved toward the parlor. The ringing grew clearer… sharper… until he stopped dead in his tracks.
Dave's phone.
It was sitting right there on the TV stand.
For a second, no one spoke.
Confusion twisted into something darker.
Tyler began pacing, running a hand through his hair. He and Dave had never been close—hell, Dave could barely stand him—but that didn't matter. They were all in this together. You don't just vanish like that.
"His phone's here?" Malik asked, disbelief written all over his face.
"Yeah," Tyler muttered. "If he took it, we could've tracked him."
Diego crossed his arms, thinking. "We wait," he said finally. "Give it a few days."
The others nodded, though no one looked convinced.
It didn't add up.
Either Dave was pulling some kind of stupid stunt… or something serious had gone down.
Three days passed.
Still no sign of him.
By then, the tension had turned into something heavier—something real.
"This isn't funny anymore," Diego said, his voice cold. "He's gone. Probably ran off to start over somewhere far… somewhere none of us can reach him."
The idea sat ugly in the room.
Later that night, they gathered in Tyler's room, trying to figure out their next move.
Malik and Peters lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling like the answers might be written up there. Their minds were blank.
Blake and Jasmine paced the room, restless, anxiety etched into every step.
Tyler stayed by the wall, calm on the outside. One leg propped up, hands buried in his pockets, eyes sharp—thinking.
"I think we should go to the cops," Jasmine said suddenly.
"Yeah, maybe—" Blake started.
"Worst idea ever." Tyler cut in, his voice firm enough to shut the room down instantly. "Don't even think about it."
Silence.
"You really want to drag the police into this?" he continued, pushing off the wall. "You think they—or the government—don't dig deeper once we show up? Diego's been careful. Everything's covered—his companies, his image. Nobody out there knows what we're really into."
He looked around the room, making sure they understood.
"Drug runs. Money laundering. Online scams. You bring cops into this, we're all screwed."
No one argued.
They couldn't.
"Right now," Tyler said, quieter but just as serious, "we think. We figure this out ourselves."