CHAPTER 46: FRIEND OR FOE

Lucien pushed the front door open with his shoulder, he managed to reach home with Coco curled securely in his arms. The little dog nuzzled into his chest, tail wagging weakly.

"Well then, Coco..." Lucien exhaled, trying to keep his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. "Welcome to your new home, I guess."

It sounded strange.

Wrong.

Like he was trying too hard to pretend this was normal.

" i mean its not clearly pet friendly but you will adjust somehow"

He nudged the door shut behind him and stepped into the dim hallway.

But before he could take another step—

A shadow shifted.

Someone was standing there. Waiting.

"Where are you coming from," Hunter said flatly.

Lucien froze. His eyes went to Hunter ,how did he know i was out ?

Hunter was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on him with a cold, unreadable intensity. He looked like he’d been standing there for a while , probably waiting for the right moment to catch Lucian red handed

"Oh—uh—hi," Lucien stammered. "I’m just... from somewhere."

His words tangled awkwardly. He mentally facepalmed. Smooth, Lucien. Very convincing.

Hunter didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His gaze slid down to Coco.

"You have a dog?" he asked, voice low, tone almost accusing.

Lucien nodded quickly. "Yes. I—I’ve long had him. He was just... staying with someone else."

Hunter tilted his head slightly. "Ethan, I suppose."

Lucien’s breath caught.

His head jerked up, eyes widening. "How... how did you know that?"

Hunter finally pushed off the wall, taking one slow step forward. His eyes narrowed as he looked directly into Lucien’s, sharp, piercing, almost predatory.

"Come on, chiquitín..." he murmured.

Lucien’s stomach flipped.

"...you literally reek of his pheromones."

The words hit Lucien like a slap. I hadn’t notice until now that i reeked of Ethan , shit....

Heat rushed to his face. His fingers tightened around Coco’s fur. He opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, utterly mortified.

"What? I—I don’t—It’s not—Hunter, that’s not what happened—"

Hunter raised a brow, unimpressed.

"I didn’t ask what happened," he said. "I can smell it. Anyone could."

Lucien swallowed hard.

His heart was pounding now, too fast, too loud, because this wasn’t just teasing. Hunter wasn’t joking. His tone was flat, edged, almost... irritated.

Like he didn’t like what he smelled.

Lucien took a small step back without meaning to, feeling his pulse hammering against his throat.

"Hunter... it’s complicated, but i swear , i just went to take my dog thats it " Lucian defended himself , but why did he feel guilty under his presence

Hunter stepped closer.

So close Lucien had to tilt his chin to keep eye contact.

"I’m sure it is," Hunter murmured, voice lower now. "But you better figure out what you’re doing, Lucien... before someone else decides for you."

Lucien’s breath hitched.

Coco whimpered quietly in his arms, almost sensing the tension crackling between them.

Hunter leaned in just slightly, eyes flicking from Lucien’s eyes... to his lips... then back to his eyes.

Then—

He pulled back.

Wall slammed back up.

Hunter’s expression flattened again as he stepped aside.

"Go on," he said. "Get your dog settled. And i hope its the last time i smell such disgusting pheromones on you"

Lucien nodded shakily, gripping Coco like a lifeline.

He walked past Hunter’s broad frame, but he could feel those eyes burning into his back the entire time.

And deep inside him, something twisted.

Something he wasn’t ready to name.

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The screen’s neon glow washed over Timothy’s face as he leaned forward, fingers tapping rapidly on the controller. Explosions flashed on the game screen, yet his eyes were distant, distracted.

Mikey sat beside him on the edge of the bed, holding the second controller loosely, his character barely moving. He kept glancing sideways at Timothy, jaw slightly clenched, clearly itching to bring something up.

Finally, Mikey broke the silence.

"So..." he drawled, tilting his head, "you wanna tell me what happened?"

Timothy didn’t turn. "Tell you what?"

Mikey’s brow lifted. "How you fucked Tracy."

Timothy’s fingers froze for a split second. His game character took a heavy hit. He resumed playing, jaw tightening.

"None of your concern," he said sharply. His tone dropped like a blade.

"Ouch," Mikey scoffed, smirking. "Cold as always."

They played in silence for a moment. The game music filled the tension. Mikey drummed his fingers on his controller.

"Did you enjoy the sex?" he asked suddenly.

Timothy whipped his head toward him. "Damn it, Mike—!"

He threw his controller down in frustration. "Enjoy? Are you freaking kidding me? I feel shitty right now, worse , like hell. I wasn’t even planning to sleep with her, and I clearly didn’t enjoy it."

Mikey pointed lazily at Timothy’s neck. "Well, your hickeys say otherwise."

Timothy’s hand shot up to his throat, fingers brushing the sensitive skin. He sighed heavily, sinking back into the chair.

"I don’t even know what happened that night," he admitted, voice low. "I was completely normal, and then suddenly... my whole body went berserk." His eyes darkened with worry. "It felt like a rut. I couldn’t even stop myself. I dont even remember what happened that night"

Game Over.

LOST flashed across the screen.

Timothy didn’t pick the controller back up.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. "Look, Mikey... me and the Dastins may have bad blood." His voice was calmer now, steady but heavy. "But I wouldn’t stoop that low for revenge. I wouldn’t sleep with anyone to anger someone"

Mikey watched him silently as Timothy grabbed his beer and swallowed the last mouthful.

"So you wouldn’t use Tracy as a rat?" Mikey pushed. "To get info and crush that family? Right now you have the upper hand, Tim. If you use Tracy for that, you could destroy them, be on top."

"Mikey..." Timothy’s voice hardened, final. "No matter how desperate I am... I will never use an innocent person in a game she has no part of."

He stood, grabbing his phone and tossing it on the nightstand.

"Now please excuse me. I need to rest. I’ve got practice early tomorrow for the upcoming race."

Mikey didn’t move.

He stared at Timothy’s back for a long moment before finally rising to his feet. His expression shifted, something calculating flickering behind his eyes.

"But just remember, Tim..." he said softly, almost too calm, "not all games are meant to be played safe."

Timothy paused mid-step.

Mikey continued, voice dropping into something darker.

"Sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty... in order to win."

Timothy didn’t respond.

But the look in Mikey’s eyes as he walked out of the room said enough.

Mikey strode out of Timothy’s apartment with a neutral expression, but the moment the door clicked shut behind him, something else flickered across his face, something sharp, cold, and triumphant.

He headed toward his black car parked under the dim streetlights. The air was cool, quiet. He unlocked the door, slid inside, and buckled himself in with an unbothered sigh, as though he hadn’t just thrown a moral grenade into Timothy’s conscience.

He reached for the glove compartment, trying to take out a packet of gum.

When he tugged it open, something slipped and scattered onto the car floor.

A folder.

It hit the carpet with a soft thud.

Mikey paused.

Then he leaned down and picked it up, dusting the corner with deliberate care. Slowly, too slowly, his lips curled upward.

"Well, well..." he murmured. "I almost forgot about this little cutie pie."

He opened the folder.

Photographs slid out into his lap, glossy under the car’s interior light.

Pictures of Mason, cornered in a narrow alley by the group of goons from that failed mission. Mason’s cold expression. Pictures of him brutally punching a gang leader, a side that even Lucien does not know about

he happened to be there that very night , he happened to see things he was not supposed to see , but here he was , with a picture that could ruin everything in just a snap of his finger

Mikey held one photo between his fingers, tapping the corner against the steering wheel.

A low chuckle escaped him.

"Truly..." he whispered, admiration lacing his tone like poison, "enemies are much closer than you think, way closer than you could possibly think"

He flicked through the photos, each one worse than the last.

His smile widened, not with humor, but with twisted satisfaction.

"Poor, sweet Lucien." His voice dripped with mock sympathy. "I wonder how he’ll feel..."

He leaned back in the seat, holding a photo up to the dim light.

"...when he finds out his dear best friend wants to destroy him."

He snapped the folder shut.

The smile stayed.

"but that’s good , for us , the more we break them , to more they become weak , and when weak they will reveal their weak spot , and we wont hesitate to use to our advantage"

And in that moment, it became clear, Mikey wasn’t just playing the game .He was setting the board. He will help Timothy in every way possible