The sun rose and fell, but clarity never came.
Jay sat cross-legged on the floor of the safehouse's living room, shirtless, sweat clinging to his chest, while Jack paced restlessly near the windows. The air between them was thick with thought, not silence, because silence would've been easier. This was worse. It was filled with questions they couldn't answer, the kind that made you feel like your ribs were too tight around your lungs.
"'She,'" Jay repeated, staring into the space between them. "Juhu said it like she was the devil in lipstick."
Jack stopped pacing. "He said to ask my father. Ask him who he offended."
They exchanged a look. They'd already ruled out Phim, though she made the most sense on paper. She had motive, attitude, and connections. But something about it didn't fit. Not completely.
Jack took a deep breath. "I'm going to ask him."
CHARLIE'S STUDY—THAT EVENING
Charlie's study smelled like sandalwood and old betrayals.
Jack stood in front of the massive mahogany desk, fists clenched behind his back. His father didn't look up from the decanter he was pouring whiskey from.
"Juhu said you should know who it is," Jack said. "He said it might not be Phim. He said it might be... personal. Someone you hurt. A woman."
Charlie looked up slowly. "Is this what we're doing now? Witch-hunting?"
"Answer the question."
"I've offended plenty of women," Charlie muttered, almost to himself. "And men. It comes with the job. But personal? I don't know. I don't remember."
Jack stared. "Try."
But Charlie didn't try. He just sipped his drink, eyes distant. "Not everything in this business ties up neatly with a red string, son."
Later that night at the safehouse, the safehouse felt oddly warm. Jay and Jack arrived first, followed by Rin and Jeff, who were laughing about something stupid, the kind of laughter that only came after brushing up too close to someone you love.
"What'd he say?" Jay asked.
Jack shrugged, tired. "That he doesn't remember. Or he doesn't care. Or both."
They gathered around the small, beat-up table, trying to map it all out again: Phim's involvement, Juhu's cryptic message, and now this mysterious woman. But it was like trying to catch snow with their hands. Everything slipped through.
"We're not going to figure this out tonight," Rin said, finally. "Let's go out. I need music. I need to feel alive."
Jay looked at Jack, who looked at Jeff, who shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."
The boys decided to have fun and stepped out to a bar in Chiang Mai.
The music thumped like a second heartbeat.
It wasn't a fancy place. The lights were dim and tinted red, and the drinks were strong enough to wipe memories. But it was safe. Or at least it felt that way for the moment. Jeff spun Rin on the dance floor, their laughter unrestrained, while Jay and Jack stayed at the bar, nursing their drinks.
"Do you think we'll ever feel normal again?" Jack asked.
Jay gave a half-smile. "What's normal? Morning coffee? Deadlines? Being able to kiss you without thinking someone's watching?"
"I want that," Jack admitted.
Jay took his hand under the table and laced their fingers together. "We'll get it."
They had fun and took enough drinks but were sober enough to call a cab to drive them back home.
They came home loose-limbed and drunk on distraction. Rin and Jeff disappeared into the other bedroom almost instantly, their hands already under each other's shirts.
Jack and Jay collapsed onto the bed, tangled limbs and faint laughs.
"Do you think it's revenge?" Jack asked suddenly. "This woman, whoever she is. What does she want? Money? Power?"
"No," Jay said softly. "You don't back Juhu and orchestrate chaos like this unless it's personal. Deeply personal. Like... scar-tissue-level personal."
"Maybe someone he betrayed... or someone you betrayed," Jack teased, rolling onto his side.
Jay rolled his eyes. "I barely talk to women. The only one who mattered was my mother."
They both quieted.
Jay exhaled. "Maybe she lost someone. Maybe she wants to make us bleed for what someone else did."
Jack nodded, but his brows furrowed. "Then why not just go after our fathers? Why us?"
"Because hurting someone's child cuts deeper."
They both lay there, the weight of the unknown pressing into their spines.
Then Jay turned, nudging Jack with a sly smile. "I can't sleep."
Jack smirked, his voice low and teasing. "What do you want me to do about it?"
Jay leaned closer, lips grazing Jack's jaw. "You know what I want."
Jack chuckled, flipping them over. "Just say it, Jay. You want me on top of you."
Jay moaned, "Fuck, yes."
What followed wasn't rushed. It wasn't wild. It was slow. Like a language only they spoke, with touches instead of words. Jack kissed every freckle he could find and every scar he remembered, and Jay held him like the world was trying to take him away.
They moved like they were memorizing each other again, like every push, pull, and breath was a thread tying them tighter.
Jay whispered Jack's name like a vow, over and over again, until he came undone beneath him.
Later, Jack lay on Jay's chest, fingers tracing nonsense shapes.
"She," Jack whispered.
Jay didn't respond.
Because he was already asleep.
And dreaming of a face he hadn't seen yet.
The woman with no face, at least not yet.