CHAPTER THREE
Gummy or daddy bear?
Dusane Central Mall was a full-body experience—less a building and more a living, breathing deity of capitalistic worship. Every inch of it gleamed. Built with a Zaha Hadid fever dream blueprint and billionaire-level funding, it stretched into the skyline like a glass-and-gold cathedral. Chrome pillars, smooth arches, light that bounced off the marble floors like a soft filter—everything here screamed: You better be rich, or at least look like it.
In the food court, someone's toddler screamed over dropping their vanilla swirl. A group of teen influencers huddled near the central fountain, phones angled high, lips pouted, light hitting their glassy eyes. One guy shouted to no one in particular, "Yo! They got a Pop-Up KAWS booth on the second floor!"
A promo voice buzzed from the overhead speakers: "Welcome to Dusane Central. Don't miss today's exclusive flash sale at D'Midas Jewelry, Level Three. D'Midas—where wealth meets worship."
And in the middle of all this, chaos made of muscles and indecision—Devon Hart.
Tall, broad, and gym-cut like a Greco-Roman statue come alive, he was halfway through an impassioned rant about how moose cake was misunderstood when Sage gave him the driest side-eye known to man.
"You can go," Sage muttered without even looking up.
Devon blinked. "Wait, seriously?"
A beat.
Then: "YES!" he declared, voice rising with a triumphant pump of the fist, earning startled looks from a couple in yoga sets walking by with smoothie bowls.
He bolted off like he'd just won the lottery, vanishing into the scent-cloud of sugary delights and overpriced gelato stands.
Sage sighed. Alone now, he turned toward the science aisle. Raw methylene wasn't exactly something you grabbed off a casual shelf—it was in a high-end chem boutique, locked up and sterile. But halfway through the trip, something tugged at him.
He paused.
Gummy bears.
A single detour wouldn't kill the mission. Quinn could wait.
He turned.
The candy aisle sparkled under golden lights, like entering a sugar-drenched dream. Shelf after shelf of rainbow packaging, flavors with ridiculous names—Dragon's Breath Citrus, Electric Cola, Solar Apple Rush. Kids were squabbling over cotton candy strips, and a guy in a suit was buying marshmallows in bulk like his life depended on it.
Down the same aisle, near the mirrored candy wall, stood Zara and Silas.
Zara was in full chaos mode.
Crop top, cargo pants, three tote bags hanging off one arm, and an energy that made you think she could start a fashion riot and win. She was halfway through fixing Silas up like a human mannequin.
Silas—stoic, tall, dripping indifference—stood with his arms out. Around his neck: three chains, one with a lion pendant big enough to be a weapon. Rings stacked, bracelets glittering, ears studded. If someone told you he moonlighted as a jewelry stand, you'd believe it.
"Hold still," Zara said, balancing a pair of ridiculous neon sunglasses on his face. "You're giving mafia dad, but like, on vacation in Ibiza."
"I look like I lost a bet," Silas deadpanned.
"You did," she smirked. "You lost it the day you agreed to let me live with you."
He exhaled, the tiniest twitch of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth.
A few feet away, Sage strolled past.
He clocked the scene—Silas looking like a hip-hop myth, Zara acting like a stylist on MDMA—and scoffed to himself. A small smirk tugged at his lips. Mall drama. He loved it.
But he didn't stop. Just kept walking, head turned for a second, and then gone.
Neither Zara nor Silas noticed him.
Silas peeled off one of the chains. "I'm getting gummy bears."
"Aw," Zara grinned. "Fine. Go. I'll be here maxing out your card. Love you!"
"Yeah, yeah." He handed his bags off to a tired sales assistant and walked away without another word.
Zara grinned, spinning slowly as she admired her reflection in the mirror walls. "Yup. We ate."
Sage stepped out from between two towering shelves, face tight with frustration. The candy aisle had become a warzone — gummy bear wrappers rustled like warning signs, and toddlers screamed somewhere in the distance like battle cries. He had searched every rack, every basket, even the kids' section (no shame), and still—nothing.
Until now.
There it was.
A glimmer.
The last pack of Citrus Blaze Gummy Bears. Sitting proudly on a center shelf like it knew it was the main character.
Sage exhaled slowly. "Finally," he whispered like he'd just discovered ancient treasure.
But before he could take a single step—
From the opposite end of the aisle, Silas Moreau turned the corner, laughing softly to himself, fixing one of the absurd chains his sister Zara had slapped around his neck earlier. His black jacket shimmered under the fluorescent lights, and his expression lit up when he, too, saw the gummy bears.
"Oh, blessed be," Silas muttered, eyes wide. "You beautiful, chewy—"
Both moved.
First it was a power-walk. Then a strut. Then—
Sage sprinted.
Silas skipped once, joyfully.
Then BOOM!
Sage launched himself like an NFL running back.
THUMP!
Silas barely had time to blink before Sage shoulder-checked him directly into the shelf.
Silas hit the candy rack like a tragic soap opera character falling in slow motion.
Gummy worms? Airborne.
Sour strips? Scattered.
Chocolate coins? Raining down like edible judgment.
Silas? Buried, limbs tangled in marshmallow ropes.
Sage didn't even look. He just snatched the gummy bears from the shelf with the smug grin of a man who knew this was destiny. He tore the corner of the bag, popped one into his mouth, and turned to leave like he didn't just commit felony-level snack assault.
But Silas, determined and sugar-dusted, rose from the rubble.
He wiped a neon blue sour snake from his shoulder and stormed after Sage.
"Yo!" he snapped.
Sage turned, eyebrows raised, still chewing. "Hm?"
Silas stopped in his tracks. His anger paused.
He looked Sage up and down. His brows dipped, not in rage but in concern.
"…Are you good?" Silas asked, genuinely confused. "That was… like, Olympic-level aggression."
Sage raised one brow. "You were moving too slow. Natural selection, boo."
Silas blinked. "You—" He started to say something slick, but then froze.
Because now, they were face to face.
And oh.
Oh.
Up close, Sage was… something else. The sharp jawline. The messy dark hair. The piercing stare like he could read minds and absolutely judge them. He looked like a problem Silas wanted to have.
Silas didn't speak. He just stood there, caught in the trance.
Then—
"Yo!" Devon's voice cracked the moment like a dropped dish.
He appeared behind Sage, holding a moose cake box triumphantly, like Simba on Pride Rock. In the other hand was a small bag labeled: 'RAW METHYLENE - HANDLE WITH CARE.'
"I got the cake and the methylene! Let's dip before Quinn starts with the death threats."
Sage barely glanced back at Silas. "Nice meeting you, speed bump."
Devon snorted as he pulled him away. "Who was that?"
"No idea," Sage replied casually, tossing another gummy in his mouth as they walked off.
Silas remained in the candy aisle, mouth parted slightly, expression blank.
"…Do they not know who I am?" he murmured to no one in particular, brushing candy dust off his sleeve.
A little kid walked past with a lollipop, squinting up at him.
"Are you okay, mister?"
Silas blinked. "I'm not even sure anymore."
Behind them, the mall speaker blared:
"FLASH DEAL IN THE BEAUTY COURT — 30% OFF LUXURY PERFUMES FOR THE NEXT 15 MINUTES! And don't miss Zion Grey's smooth sax performance at 2PM!"
Somewhere nearby, Zara was still terrorizing a poor sales assistant with the world's longest list of things she absolutely needed before dusk.
And Silas?
He just stood there — candy-covered, ego bruised, and very, very intrigued.