𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

Ohm's hands didn't tremble as he set the box on the metal table - only his jaw tightened. The warehouse smelled of oil and dust and something younger and sharper: the metallic tang of other men's sweat. He crouched in front of the device, the scanner primed and waiting.

"Do it," he ordered quietly, nodding toward the chair where Sky sat, wrists bound, eyes rimmed with exhaustion but otherwise eerie in that calm way Sky always had. Sky watched him like a man watching a fire he'd lit and was certain would warm him.

A tech in a hooded jacket stepped forward to hold the box steady. "Sir-" he began, voice small, but Ohm cut him off with a nod. The man forced himself to follow the protocol: align the scanner, get the iris read, authenticate.

Sky half-closed his eyes and let the machine take his gaze. The scanner beeped, a green light winked on, the lock clicked. For a moment, everyone in the room exhaled at once - the mechanism had accepted the biometric. Then, in the same breath, the box didn't open. It ruptured.

A bright blast slammed outward. Heat roared over the hooded man's hands; skin sizzled and flayed with a sound like thin paper tearing. He howled, dropping the exploding box as it shredded in on itself, curls of flame licking his fingers. Men flung themselves back, coughing, ears ringing.

Sky's laugh cut through the chaos - small, incredulous, venomous. It sounded almost delighted. "You really thought it would be that easy?" he said, voice soft enough to wound.

Ohm, face a mask of controlled fury, lunged for the console. "What-why didn't it open? It scanned-" His hands flew through the controls, eyes scanning readouts, heartbeat loud in his throat.

Sky shrugged, amusement unchanged. "Maybe it wasn't mine to open," he said. "Keep guessing, dumb fellow." The cool sarcasm was an insult wrapped in ice.

Ohm's mouth flattened. "Find out who did this," he barked, to his men. "Lock down the perimeter. Now!" But even as the order left him, something else tore through the warehouse-an explosion sounded outside, farther at first, then closer, like a series of detonations being set off down a line. The building shuddered.

Shouts. Radios spitting static. The sounds of boots, of rubber on concrete, the unmistakable roar of engines.Someone at the far door cursed and ran to look. A moment later the heavy steel door slammed inward as lights flashed through the shuttered windows - headlamps, mobile spotlights, a line of armored vehicles punching the night.

"They're here," one of Ohm's men spat, eyes wide. "The Theerapanyakuns-vehicles, heavy. They're hitting us hard."

Ohm spun, trying to take it in. On the screen, a scattering of black silhouettes moved with surgical precision down the treeline-snipers, bikes, a convoy that didn't look like ordinary police. Red's Ducati carved through the dirt, headlights cutting through smoke; Vegas's Range Rover and a string of black cars followed, men pouring out, weapons raised.

For the first time that night, Ohm's composed mask fractures. The plan had been to humiliate and expose, to make Sky open his mouth and lead them to the rest. Now the rest had come early and loud - and not on Ohm's timetable.

Sky's grin widened at the commotion. "Ah," he said, leaning his head back against the chair. "My people finally showed up." He flicked his eyes toward Ohm with an easy cruelty. "Timing, officer. You always forget: timing is everything."

Outside, the firefight erupted - bullets cracking, glass shattering, men yelling. A flare of movement at the warehouse edge told a story of snipers adjusting, of men taking cover. Ohm barked orders, but the volume and force of the assault swallowed his authority in a tide of chaos.

On the metal slab where the ruined box smoldered, Sky laughed again, quieter this time, as if savoring something private. He knew the moment had shifted. Theatrical flourish or not, he'd baited a hook and somehow, precisely, made the enemy swim into the net.

The warehouse lit up under flash and muzzle fire. Men ducked, returned fire, dragged their burned comrade back. Ohm's eyes searched the shadows, for snipers, for the man on the Ducati, for anything that could change the night back to his favor.

But the Theerapanyakuns were on the move - and whatever Ohm had set in motion, the night had tipped into something bigger and far more dangerous than anyone in that warehouse had planned.

The warehouse had become hell.Smoke curled up from overturned tables, blood pooled beneath boots, bullets whizzed like angry hornets. Men dropped one after another - short screams, gurgles, the dull thud of collapsing bodies. Theerapakyun's men weren't here to warn or threaten - they were here to erase. Precision, power, and vengeance. Every shot fired was calculated, every kill purposeful.

Sky watched it unfold through the haze, the heat of gunfire flashing against his skin. The ropes around his wrists strained, the metal of the cuffs biting into him. But these weren't new to him - his body remembered training that had been beaten into him by the very father now outside. A quick twist of the wrist, a sharp tug downward, and with a metallic snap, the cuff gave way.

He flexed his freed fingers, quiet satisfaction ghosting across his face.

That's when Junior noticed.The young officer's face contorted in fury - the same anger that had burned through him since Mark's death. He took one step forward, gun half-raised, intent clear in his eyes. But before he could take another, a gust of icy air brushed the back of his neck. The hair on his arms rose.

"You thought William killed your little boyfriend?" a low, smooth voice whispered just behind him - so close that Junior's breath hitched.

The voice chuckled. "No, I did it."

Junior barely had time to turn, eyes wide, before his body was yanked backward into the shadows. His scream died in his throat, cut off by the wet sound of a blade slicing through flesh. And then - silence.

Ohm spun, eyes darting, chaos spiraling. "Find him!" he shouted, firing blindly at the dim corners of the warehouse. But his own voice was drowned beneath the storm of bullets that followed.

Then - the door burst open.

The sudden flood of light from outside painted the chaos in gold and gray. Men in black tactical gear swarmed in - silent, fast, efficient. Gunfire erupted anew, and Theerapakyun's insignia gleamed under the flashes of muzzle fire. They moved through Ohm's men like a tide reclaiming land.

And then, through the haze of smoke and falling debris, he appeared.Vegas Theerapakyun stepped into the warehouse - tall, terrifying, his every movement steeped in authority. His eyes locked on Ohm, cold and venomous. He didn't need to shout; the air itself seemed to recoil from his rage.

But before Ohm could even think, Vegas shifted slightly aside - making way for someone else.

The soft echo of measured footsteps filled the space, too calm for this storm. Ohm turned - and froze.

Nani walked in.

Blood streaked across his pale cheek, smudged along his sleeve, the deep maroon stains telling their own story. But none of it was his. In his right hand, he held a revolver - Sky's Russian Roulette. The silver caught the dim light, spinning idly on his finger as he walked.

His eyes, once bright and tender, were hollow now - no light, no warmth, no hesitation. His expression was unreadable, eerily serene amid the chaos.

For a brief, haunting second, Ohm saw flashes of the boy he'd known - the one with the soft smile, the careful manners. But that boy was gone.This man - this version of Nani - looked like vengeance carved into something beautiful.

And when his gaze finally met Ohm's, the officer's blood ran cold.

For the first time that night, Ohm regretted every choice that led him here.

Because in those empty eyes, he saw death walking toward him - and it was smiling.

The gunshot cracked through the chaos like thunder.

Ohm screamed - the sound sharp, raw, almost animalistic - as his knees buckled beneath him. Blood splattered across the dusty floor, pooling fast. He collapsed, clutching his leg, the veins in his neck straining as agony took over. His gun slipped from his grasp, clattering uselessly beside him.

Nani stood above him, breathing heavily, his expression disturbingly calm. The gun hung loosely from his hand, smoke curling from its barrel. He crouched slowly, bringing himself to Ohm's eye level. Their gazes met - one trembling and broken, the other sharp and eerily tranquil.

"Officer..." Nani's voice was quiet, steady - but every word dripped with venom. "When I first met you at the seminar, I thought you were smart. Sharp. Someone who knew when to step back."

He tilted his head, a faint, bitter smile tugging at his lips. "But you proved me wrong tonight."

Ohm opened his mouth, maybe to plead, maybe to explain - but Nani wasn't finished.

"About Sky," he continued, eyes darkening. "He's mine. Always has been, always will be." He moved the gun's muzzle to Ohm's chin, pressing it just enough to make him flinch. "How could you ever think about taking him away from me?"

The faint tremor in his hand betrayed him - not hesitation, but emotion so deep it blurred into madness. His voice cracked as he went on, "If it wasn't for you, I'd be choosing my wedding suit today. Laughing with my family. Waiting for him."

His tone rose, trembling with fury and heartbreak all at once. "But you-" his finger tightened on the trigger, "-you ruined it."

A beat of silence. The kind that hurt.

Nani's next words came in a whisper, too soft, too broken:

"Now you're gonna pay for it."

He leaned in closer - eyes glistening now - but before he could say more, a familiar voice, low and rough, cut through the air.

"Love?"

The word hit Nani like lightning.

His head snapped up, and there he was - Sky.

Standing a few feet away, blood smeared across his face, a bruise blooming along his jaw, shirt torn, wrists still red from restraints - yet somehow, smiling. That same infuriating, teasing smirk he always wore when he knew Nani was mad.

Nani froze. The gun fell from his grasp, clattering beside Ohm. For a second, everything around them disappeared - the gunfire outside, the screams, the smoke - it all dissolved into nothing. There was only him.

Sky took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving Nani's. "You're shaking," he murmured, voice hoarse. "You shouldn't have come here, baby."

That word - baby - cracked something in Nani.

He stormed toward Sky, the fury that had been boiling in him spilling over. "You-" he choked out, "-you idiot! Do you have any idea what you've done? What I-what we-"

Before Sky could answer, the sound of a slap echoed. Nani's hand stung, his body trembling. The hit wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it carried everything - fear, anger, pain, love.

Sky didn't even flinch. He just stood there, head slightly turned, cheek red from the impact - but his smirk softened into something tender. "I deserved that," he whispered.

"Deserved?" Nani's voice broke. "You-You nearly got yourself killed! You think I can breathe without you? Eat without you? Sleep without you?"

His chest heaved, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. "I was waiting for you," he said, voice trembling. "Sky."

Sky opened his mouth - maybe to soothe, maybe to apologize - but Nani didn't let him.

He grabbed Sky's collar, yanking him forward with a strength that came from pure desperation. Their lips crashed together - rough, messy, desperate - tasting of blood, sweat, and tears.It wasn't a kiss of reunion. It was a kiss of survival.

A kiss that screamed don't you ever leave me again.

Sky's hands, still trembling, came up to cup Nani's face, thumb brushing away his tears even as he deepened the kiss. When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless - foreheads pressed together, the world around them slowly coming back into focus.

Sky's smile was small but real. "You came for me."

Nani's voice cracked as he whispered, "Always."

And for the first time that night - amid the smoke, the chaos, the destruction - Sky laughed softly, the sound breaking Nani all over again.