As they moved deeper into the room, more cages came into view — and then, the sound of footsteps.
Someone was there.
A sudden crack—Jake lunged forward.
Jake: "What the fuck are you doing here?!"
It was Isaac.
Isaac: "You guys were sneaking around like fucking thieves!"
Sam: "So you followed us?"
Isaac just rolled his eyes.
Jean's temper flared. He grabbed Isaac by the collar.
Jean: "If you die here, none of us will save you. Remember that."
He shoved him back and turned away.
Isaac: "You think I need your damn protection?!"
Jean: "So be it."
They turned away as Isaac trailed behind, muttering under his breath, sticking close behind Miana.
Then came a muffled sound from one of the cages.
Jean paused.
He thought someone's mouth was gagged, but as he peered inside, he froze. A body — emaciated, barely alive — was chained within. But his mouth wasn't covered.
So what was making that sound?
Sam murmured, barely audible, "No fucking way…"
Jean looked over. "What?"
Sam: "Their... their tongues. They're cut off."
Everyone flinched.
Every single person in the cages — mute. The only sound was a desperate muffling. Their tongues were gone.
Jean: "So they can't speak. Can't tell who did this... or what was done to them."
One name crept into Jean's mind. Not just his — they were all thinking the same name.
Even Sam hesitated.
But then, Miana broke the silence. "But…"
Isaac, still clueless, scoffed. "What now?"
Miana ignored his tone.
Miana: "Don't they… look familiar to you guys? I mean, yeah, their bodies are distorted, but…"
Prez suddenly gasped, pointing to a cage in front of her.
Prez: "That bastard! Isn't he the child rapist who disappeared a year ago? The one the police couldn't find?"
They all leaned in, squinting. The man inside startled and began thrashing, the metal clanging wildly.
Juli: "So… this is a torture cell?"
Ray: "But why would this be Sage's main base?"
Isaac made confused expressions — still lost.
But Jean…
He said nothing. His gaze sharpened. He pushed past everyone.
He didn't walk. He nearly ran.
As if chasing the truth.
Jake: "Jean!!"
Jake sprinted after him.
Prez groaned: "That psycho!"
Before she could follow, Sam bolted. The others rushed after him.
Jean passed cage after cage, faces he recognized — names he'd heard. It all led him to a door. Blue. Automatic.
It opened the moment he reached it.
Jake and Sam followed. Then the rest. They stepped inside—
A lab.
A massive crescent-shaped table dominated the center. Transparent cabinets lined the sides. Deeper inside — a large open cabin. A sofa. A giant desk. Papers scattered across it.
Sam clenched his fists, eyes locked on Jean. Just as Jean was about to step forward, Sam grabbed him.
Sam: "Don't."
Jean turned back, confused.
Sam: "It's too easy. Too clean. He's baiting us. He… he wants you to see this."
Jean: "I know. He wants me to know."
The lights were still on. The computer—still warm. As if someone had just been here.
Sage had cleared the room.
He wanted Jean to see it. To face it.
Everything Jean had staked his life on—his pursuit of the truth, his belief in his parents' innocence—was it all a lie?
Sage was playing with his mind.
And Sam saw it.
Jean gently removed Sam's hand from his arm. As the others prepared to enter, Sam raised his hand, stopping them. Only Sam and Jake followed Jean into the room.
Jean approached the table where the documents were left—deliberately, mockingly.
Sage's cruelty ran even through silence.
Jean knew what was there. The data. The graphs. The victim lists. And worst of all—the deal his parents made with the devil himself.
Sage.
Sam and Jean paused in front of the table. Sam, who still believed there had to be more to the story, now found himself frozen. And Jean, who had always clung to a faint hope that his parents did what they did for a reason — now stood at the edge of truth.
Jake picked up a document. A red seal caught his eye. A name.
Jake: "Apollo."
Sam, lost in thought, snapped back. His eyes narrowed.
Sam: "It should be Sage. Not Apollo."
Jean, quietly: "No... It says Apollo."
Jake blinked. "Apollo? As in… Apollo Brown? Isn't he retired? Why would his seal be here?"
Jean's breath trembled.
Sam rifled through more papers. He realized something chilling—when Sage took over the company, Apollo never truly left. In fact, every time an official stamp was required—it was Apollo's. He still held power.
And worse, while Sage executed the killings…
Human experiments?
They were run by Apollo.
In secret.
The three of them exchanged stunned looks.
Sam: "But… why? Why would Sage show this to us?"
__________
Mountain Peak – Night.
The wind was sharp. The air is thin. High up on the mountain peak, the moon cast long shadows.
Sage and Felton leaned against the hood of a black SUV, cigarette smoke curling like ghosts in the cold night air. They didn't move as footsteps approached — not until Rai and Rowon came into view.
Rai (snapping): "Why? Why the hell did you let them in there?!"
Felton exhaled a slow drag. Sage finally turned, lazily flicking ash to the side.
Sage: "Why do you think?"
Rowon (dryly): "You want to toy with them. That's your thing, right?"
Sage stepped forward, closing the space. Eye to eye with Rai now — close enough to taste the anger.
Sage: "Jean told you about the deal his parents made with me, didn't he?"
Rai's jaw clenched. His nostrils flared.
Rai: "Yeah. So? What? Don't tell me you helped him kill them. I know you didn't. You don't do charity."
Felton scoffed from behind.
Felton: "Of course not. What do you think Sage is? A foundation?"
Rowon (raising a brow): "Isn't he supposed to be a charitable man?"
Sage (deadpan): "I don't do nonsensical tasks. But... my old man? He had different priorities. Same with those bastards in your investigator section."
Rai: "What the hell are you trying to say?!"
Felton stepped forward, eyes cold.
Felton: "Don't raise your voice. You think Sage covets BETA to play Frankenstein with civilians?!"
Rowon stayed quiet, but his gaze flicked sharply between the three of them.
Felton (spitting venom): "That bastard — even his birth certificate's expired, but he just won't die!"
Rai (eyes narrowing): "Apollo didn't hand BETA over to you completely, did he?"
Sage: "That man... he's addicted to cracking open skulls. It's his drug of choice. Too good to quit."
Rai: "Stop speaking in riddles, you bastard."
Sage: "Ah... Detective's losing patience."
He leaned in, voice low.
"I helped you kill your father. Now it's your turn to pay up. Remember? I said I'd come collecting."
Rai: "Then why don't you just kill Apollo yourself?"
Sage laughed — deep, sharp, almost delighted.
Sage: "If it were that easy, do you think that old cockroach would still be breathing?"
Felton: "He's got power. Real power. And a lot of big shots who love his... games."
Sage: "And he's still tracking me. Still trying to ruin what I built."
Felton glanced at Rowon, eyes filled with something unspoken.
Sage: "That's why I chose you, Detective. To expose him. Make the world see what kind of monster he is. And when it all falls apart..."
He gestured dramatically.
"I'll throw some red eyedrops in, tear up on live TV, and say something heartfelt. Media eats that shit up."
Rai (rolling his eyes): "You're pulling a whole Sherlock Holmes move here, aren't you? 'I chose you' — what the fuck."
Sage (grinning): "It's my favorite book. Always wanted to use that line."
Rai laughed — not out of joy, but from the surge of adrenaline and thrill Sage always stirred in him. His blood boiled. His hands itched. This was the chaos he craved.
Rowon glanced at Felton again — eyes silently asking, Is this real?
Felton looked back, lips parting to say something, but—
Rai (cutting in): "So. What do we have to do?"
Sage smirked. The kind of smirk that promised blood, secrets, and war.
______
Back at the resort.
The eight of them returned — but it wasn't really them.
It felt like their souls were still caged back in that mountain. As if the ones imprisoned weren't those chained victims… but the eight who saw them. Their sanity left behind in the darkness, now only shadows walking the halls of the resort.
Ray and Juli didn't need to ask. They could tell.
Prez didn't speak either. She understood.
Miana tried to question, but Sam gently shook his head and placed a hand on her shoulder — silencing her with a look.
Even Issac stayed quiet until they reached the lobby. Something told him that tonight… was not the night to push buttons.
But Jake had no such filter.
Jake cornered Issac, voice low but sharp enough to cut through steel.
Jake: "If you tell anyone what you saw tonight… I swear, it'll be your turn to rot in that prison. I'll make it happen."
The fire in Jake's eyes burned holes into Issac's skull. Prez had to drag Jake away, force him toward the room. She stayed with him — calming him down.
Juli and Ray tried to follow Jean to his room, but Sam blocked the way.
Sam: "Not tonight, guys."
Ray and Juli exchanged glances, nodded silently, and backed off. Miana looked like she might protest, but Juli gently pulled her back, dragging Issac with them.
Jean was about to enter his room when he felt Sam was trying to leave. He grabbed his hand.
Sam.
Jean: "Where are you going?"
Sam hesitated.
Jean knew. He could feel it. Sam was headed to him. To Sage.
Sam: "I… I…"
Then a voice echoed from inside Jean's room.
Rai: "Let him."
Both Jean and Sam flinched.
Rai (firmly): "Let him go. He needs to."
Jean didn't want to. Letting go of Sam's hand felt like pushing him into the lion's den — offering his closest friend to the very monster they all feared. The weight of guilt pressed heavy on Jean's chest.
Jean: "Be careful… I… I feel guilty. If I hadn't—"
Sam pulled him into a tight hug.
Sam: "Shhh. Don't say anything. You know I'd do it for you. Again. And again. And again. No matter what."
Jean's eyes stung. Sam — his shield, his light in the darkest hours — was always there. When Jean broke. When he nearly ended everything. Sam had held him together.
And now, that same person was willingly walking into hell.
Jean: "I know. That's what I'm scared of. Are you sure Sage won't do anything to you?"
Inside the room, Rai still stood by the door, watching them. As Jean and Sam embraced, something ugly twisted inside Rai's chest — a slow-burning jealousy, sharp and irrational.
His expression hardened.
Suddenly, Rai stepped forward, wedging between them like a wall. His eyes locked onto Sam's, unwavering and burning.
Rai: "He can handle Sage."
Without warning, he grabbed Jean's wrist and yanked him into the room, slamming the door shut.
Sam (muttering): "Fucker."
A vibration buzzed in Sam's hand. A new message.
> Come to my lounge.
Short. Direct. Possessive.
Of course it was Sage.
______
Jean had always known.
What his parents did—what they supported—was no longer a mystery. They didn't just turn a blind eye to Sage's plans; they fed him. They pointed him to the criminals who wore polished shoes and untouchable names. Those bastards who escaped justice thanks to bribes, power, or bloodlines. Jean's parents lured them in. And Sage… Sage made them vanish.
And now, the photos in Jean's trembling hands—their faces, the marks, the silence—were enough to shatter the last thread of denial in him.
Across the room, Rai stood by the window. The storm outside painted streaks of light over his back. His muscles were taut beneath the thin white shirt, his shoulders unmoving.
Rai: "You saw."
Jean: "You knew."
Rai didn't turn around.
Rai: "Sage told me."
Jean stared. His heart clenched.
Jean: "Why? Why would he tell you?"
Rai's voice came low. Measured.
Rai: "I told you. Sage helped me kill my father. Now it's time I return the favor."
Jean's breath hitched.
Jean: "How?"
Rai finally turned, slowly closing the distance between them. His fingers brushed Jean's waist—gentle, grounding. Jean hadn't even noticed he was shaking.
Rai leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of Jean's ear. His breath warm. His touch, slow. One hand threaded into Jean's hair, the other pulling him closer, covering him. Replacing the lingering scent of Sam. Replacing everything.
And then, a whisper:
Rai: "By killing his father."
Jean's eyes widened. His voice barely escaped.
Jean: "Apollo…?"
Still holding him close, Rai didn't answer. Not in words. His silence was confirmation enough.
Jean clutched him back. The storm outside cracked against the glass.
Rai's grip tightened. Something in him—sanity, restraint—began to unravel. Maybe it was the truth, maybe it was the night. Maybe it was Jean.
The kiss that followed wasn't tender. It was cold. Like the rain tapping at the windows. Like guilt dressed as hunger.
Tonight, Jean didn't crave warmth. He didn't want soft touches or sweet promises. He wanted to forget.
And Rai... was all too willing to help him disappear.
His mouth found Jean's neck, dragging a sigh from deep within. Jean arched back, nearly losing balance. The bed behind caught them, cold sheets pulling them down like waves. Bodies tangled. Shivering. Spiraling.
And in that freezing embrace, they burned.
________
>Come to my lounge.
Sam stared at it for ten full minutes before moving. Now, standing in front of the carved wooden doors that guarded Sage's private lounge, his palms were dry, but his chest beat like something caged. Not fear. Not quite. But not far from it either.
He knocked once.
No answer.
He opened the door.
The room was dim, washed in the amber light of the chandelier. No guards. No Felton. Just Sage, lounging on his chair by the bar, legs crossed, a crystal glass in hand. He didn't even glance at Sam when the door clicked shut.
Only when Sam took a single step inside did Sage speak.
Sage: "You came. That's brave."
Sam didn't respond. Not yet.
Sage finally turned. His eyes swept over Sam with calculated ease. The burn inside him is telling him to take Sam in his lap and ram him down till he passes out. But it took a Satan level of control to keep himself calm, it's Sam he is eyeing after all. The mere sight of him is enough to make Sage bricked.
He pointed to the chair across from him.
Sage: "Sit."
Sam moved slowly. Measured. Sat without a word.
Sage: "Whiskey?"
Sam met his gaze, quiet. Unreadable.
Sam: "Why did you call me?"
Sage chuckled slowly. Then leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice dropping.
Sage: " Where else would you go? ."
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly.
Sage: "After all, you snuck into my lab. Touched things you weren't supposed to."
Sam: " You tricked us into going there."
Sage: " Fine. I did. What about you Sam? You know everything. You already decrypt the pen drive. And still let Jean go inside or more like lead him inside."
Sam froze. Just a flicker. Barely there.
But Sage saw it.
Sage: "I wonder… What did you find in my pen drive, little thief?"
Sam's fists clenched on his lap.
Sam: "You already know. Why ask?"
Sage: "Because I want to hear you say it."
He leaned back again, sipping slowly.
Sage: "I want to see your face when you admit it. I want to know how it feels—to carry the truth and lie to my face."
Silence thickened.
Then, Sam spoke. Quiet. Sharp.
Sam: "I saw what you did. What they helped you do."
Sage stilled.
Sam: "People who were supposed to be untouchable. Disappeared. Not by law, but by you. Jean needed to know that or he would break even more. "
Sage: "You make it sound cruel."
Sam: "Isn't it?"
Sage stood slowly. Walked to Sam's side—not rushed, not angry. Just steady. Controlled.
He crouched beside him. Their faces inches apart.
Sage: "They were monsters, Sam. I simply devoured what the world refused to chew."
A pause.
Sage: "Do you hate me now?"
Sam didn't answer.
Sage's hand reached up. Brushed a strand of hair from Sam's cheek. Fingers lingered just a bit too long.
Sage (softly): "Or do you finally understand me?"
Sage's hand lingered near Sam's cheek, the air between them charged and breathless.
Sam's voice broke the silence—not cold, not angry, but low. Almost like a confession whispered in a confessional.
Sam: "I should hate you."
Sage said nothing, just watched.
Sam: "You killed people."
Sage: " Now, so did you."
Sam: "You played god. You drugged us. Lied. Manipulated every damn thing like we were chess pieces on your little board."
Sage's fingers slipped from his cheek, resting now on Sam's thigh. Waiting. Watching.
Sam: "And still..."
Sam's breath caught.
Sam (quietly): "Still, I came."
He looked away, as if ashamed. But only for a second. His gaze returned, sharper now. Not innocent. Not forgiving. But drawn.
Sam: "I should run from you."
Sage: "But you won't."
Sam didn't answer. He didn't need to. His silence was admission enough.
Sage stepped even closer, closing the distance even, his presence like smoke—thick, intoxicating, inescapable. His palm slid from Sam's cheek down to his chest, fingers grazing over the fabric like he was memorizing every breath Sam dared to take.
Then—
The kiss landed.
Not soft. Not sweet.
It was rough. Hungry. Like possession.
Sage's lips claimed Sam's like he owned them. Like they were always meant to be his. One hand tangled in Sam's hair, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss, while the other gripped Sam's waist, pulling him closer until there was no space left—just the thrum of blood, the heat of skin through clothes, and the truth neither of them could outrun.
Sam didn't fight it.
Didn't question.
His hands clutched Sage's blazer like it was the only thing anchoring him. His lips parted, welcoming the intrusion, the domination, the twisted intimacy.
Because this… this felt inevitable.
Like gravity.
Like falling.
Sage's mouth moved to Sam's jaw, then his throat, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. His hands roamed—across Sam's back, down his spine, pausing at his hips. Every touch was calculated. Cruel. Reverent.
Sage (against Sam's throat): "You'll always come back to me, won't you?"
Sam exhaled, the sound shaky.
But he didn't answer.
Because he already had.
He tilted his head, exposing more of his neck. Offering. Inviting.
Because maybe this wasn't betrayal.
Maybe this was just the law of nature.
The sky is blue. Water is wet.
And Sam...is always Sage's.