Fadel

The room was quiet except for the hum of the dim lamp overhead and the occasional sound of Bison's steady breathing. He was resting on the couch now, pale but stable, though still unconscious. Style was still by his side, barely blinking, as though if he took his eyes off Bison for even a second, something might happen. He was quiet—unusually so.

I shifted in my seat, leaning over the table where a few photos of the bills with the snake emblem were laid out, surrounded by several maps and phone notes. The urgency of the situation hung heavy in the air. We needed answers, and fast.

"We know we're being targeted. But MOTHER is tied to this somehow," I started, breaking the silence. "She's been using the same bills. Whoever sent these men, they've got to have a reason. And they're not going to stop unless we take the fight to them."

Kant stood by the window, eyes scanning the outside world like he expected someone to show up at any moment. "She's the key," he muttered, glancing back at me. "We get to her, we get answers. But how do we get close to her without her knowing we're coming?"

I leaned back in the chair, glancing at Bison's unconscious form. Style hadn't moved an inch, still keeping a gentle hand on Bison's arm, but I could see the tension in his posture, the way his fists were clenched when he wasn't holding onto Bison. It was clear he didn't want to lose him again.

"We have to be smart about this," I continued. "She's got eyes everywhere. If we make even one wrong move, we're finished. But we know she's been playing both sides. We just have to figure out why."

The silence stretched for a moment before Style spoke, his voice hoarse. "What if she's not the one behind this? What if she's just a pawn, like us?"

I turned to him. He looked worn out—exhausted in a way that went deeper than just physical tiredness. But his words made sense. It was entirely possible that Mother had been manipulated too, used in a game she didn't even realize she was part of.

"Then we take her out of the equation, and we find out who's really pulling the strings," I said firmly. "Either way, she knows something."

Bison stirred slightly from the couch, but Style just stroked his hair gently, a quiet hum escaping him as though he were trying to soothe the space between them. He didn't need to say anything for the rest of us to know that he'd be damned before letting anything happen to Bison.

"We can't do this alone," Kant finally said, turning to face us. "We need more intel. More allies. If Mother's connected to these bills, then someone's been laundering money or running operations on the side, and they won't be happy with us poking around."

I ran a hand through my hair, my mind already whirling through possibilities. "I've got some contacts who might be able to help. People who've crossed paths with her before, but nothing concrete. Maybe we need to look deeper into her associates—people she trusts."

"We'll need to move fast," Kant added. "Before they send more people after us."

I nodded, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the puzzle was far from solved. And the more we uncovered, the more dangerous it became.

"Alright," I said, looking around at the group. "We split up. Style, you stay with Bison and make sure he's stable. I'll go meet with my contact, see if they have anything on Mother. Kant, you keep an eye out here—if anyone's coming for us, we need to be ready."

Kant shot me a look. "You sure you want to handle this alone?"

I nodded. "I've got it. You just make sure nothing else goes wrong while I'm gone."

As I stood up, I could see the quiet understanding between all of us. This wasn't just about Bison or Style anymore. This was about us—all of us—and figuring out who was behind everything before we all ended up dead.

Kant's POV

I knew this wasn't going to be easy. It never was. But when Fadel stood up, preparing to leave for his contact, I couldn't shake the tightness in my chest. The plan was set—split up, gather information, and reconvene when we had something. But there was still that damn feeling gnawing at me, a quiet worry I couldn't quite shake.

I watched as he moved toward the door, his hand reaching for his jacket, but something in me needed a moment. I didn't want to let him go, not like this, not with the world on fire outside these walls.

"Fadel." My voice came out softer than I intended, but it caught his attention, and he turned back to me, his eyes steady but warm.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement crossing his face, though I could see the exhaustion in his gaze. "What's up?"

I took a breath, stepping toward him, my hands finding their way to his waist. I needed him to understand, to hear the words I was too afraid to say out loud. "Just... be careful, okay? I need you to come back to me."

He smiled, a slow, reassuring curve of his lips that made my heart twist. "I'm not going anywhere."

I shook my head slightly, my fingers tracing along the edge of his jacket, as if touching him could somehow ground me, remind me that he was real, that he was here. "I know you're not. But this isn't just a simple job, Fadel. They'll come after us. And I don't want to lose you in the middle of all this."

His expression softened, that unreadable calm taking over as he stepped closer. "You won't."

His hand cupped the back of my neck gently, pulling me in closer. His eyes flickered between mine for a moment, as if silently weighing the distance between us before he leaned in, his lips brushing mine in a soft, brief kiss. It was a promise, unspoken, but loud in its sincerity.

"I'll come back to you, Kant." He whispered against my lips, his voice low, steady. "You know I will."

I nodded, though the words felt hollow—like they weren't enough to shake the unease in my chest. But I knew better than to argue. I trusted him, even if the world felt like it was falling apart around us.

He pulled back slightly, but only enough to keep his hand resting on my neck, his thumb gently stroking the skin there. "I'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

I didn't want to let him go. I wanted to keep him here, with me, safe. But I knew there was no stopping him. So instead, I pressed one last kiss to his lips, a little firmer this time, a promise of my own.

"Just come back to me."

"I will."

With that, he gave me one last look, one that held all the unspoken things between us—the trust, the understanding, the knowledge that no matter what happened, we would find our way back to each other. Then, without another word, he left.

I stood there for a moment longer than I probably should've, letting the quiet settle around me, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest. I knew Fadel could take care of himself. He always did. But that didn't stop me from wishing for just a little more time with him, for just one more moment of peace before the storm hit again.

But the world wouldn't wait, and neither would the danger. I had my own part to play now.