Zhan
The day blurs quickly. By five, Wang had everything planned, reservations in one of the best restaurants in town. Two seats for Ezra and Ziyi, tucked under candlelight. Another table in the far corner, booked for three, where Wag, me and Dre could keep watch without drawing suspicion.
Ezra had already texted Ziyi the address.
The trap was set.
By six-thirty, we were ready.
Ezra surprised me the most. He'd trimmed his hair close at the sides, leaving the top just long enough to push back with a sleek shine. His suit was sharp navy, tailored just enough to fit like it had been waiting in a closet for this moment. When he caught me staring, he arched a brow like he'd been born to look dangerous and expensive.
Dre, on the other hand, looked like a storm barely leashed. He'd gone with black on black—shirt, jacket, even his shoes gleamed like mirrors. But his jaw was tight, and the way his hands kept flexing gave him away.
"I'll kill that bitch myself if she touches you," Dre hissed under his breath.
Ezra's smile was sharp, amused. "Relax, love." He cupped Dre's cheek, unbothered by his heat. "You'll be hearing me the whole time." Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed him, slow, deliberate, like he was reminding Dre who he belonged to.
"Okay..." Dre muttered when they pulled apart, but his voice was soft, almost whining. Ezra just smirked.
Wang was the anchor, as always. He'd chosen a charcoal-gray suit, crisp white shirt open just enough at the collar to make him look both untouchable and human. His hair was neat, his watch expensive, but it was the calm in his eyes that drew me in. Like no matter what happened tonight, he already had the ending written.
And me? I wore the suit Wang had quietly left out on the bed earlier, a deep green that almost looked black until the light caught it. The fabric hugged me in ways that made my insecurities whisper, but when Wang looked at me, I forgot all of them. His gaze said I was the sharpest blade at his side.
We looked good.
We looked like we belonged to the kind of world we'd sworn to burn down.
We slid into the Porsche Dre had rented, its engine purring like a beast in waiting. The space bus rolled behind us, shadowing us from a distance.
The plan was simple: Ezra would handle Ziyi, escort her, talk to her, watch her. If she showed up tonight, he'd be the one to drop her back. The Porsche would carry them. The bus would bring us home.
But as we drove into the city lights, the air heavy with perfume, danger, and expectation, I couldn't shake the thought, plans had a way of breaking.
The city lights are beautiful at night. Wang was right.
Glass towers glimmer like fireflies caught in steel cages, their reflections spilling across the dark water below. Neon signs bleed colors into the streets, painting strangers in shifting blues and reds. The whole place feels alive, humming, like it's holding its breath just for us.
I lean back in the Porsche's seat, the hum of the engine under me, the leather cool against my skin. For a moment, I forget why we're here. For a moment, it feels like we're just four people dressed too well, driving into a night that belongs to us.
Wang glances at me from the driver's seat, one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting near mine on the console. His profile catches the glow of passing streetlamps, sharp jaw, calm eyes, that quiet strength that makes me believe in things I shouldn't.
"You see?" he says softly, almost like he can read my thoughts. "Told you St. Tropez at night was something else."
I smile, small but real. "It's... more than I imagined."
From the back seat, Dre mutters, "It's pretty, sure, but I still prefer a gun in my hand."
Ezra smirks beside him. "You'll get your chance, love. Don't ruin the view just yet." He leans forward, resting an arm on the back of our seats. "Focus, Zhan. Tonight's not about the skyline, it's about whether she shows."
I nod, though my eyes stay on the lights. They're too perfect, too fleeting, like a reminder that beauty doesn't last in our kind of life.
Still, I can't help myself. I whisper, almost to no one, "If this was another life, I'd want to stay."
Wang's hand brushes mine, subtle but firm. "Then we'll make this one enough," he murmurs, his voice so steady it feels like a vow.
The car hums on, carrying us deeper into the glow of the city, closer to the restaurant, closer to her.
Closer to the moment where beauty will crack and danger will finally step out of the shadows.
Before we stepped out of the car, Wang had taken Ezra's phone, fingers moving quick over the screen. He handed it back with that calm certainty of his and said, "The second she walks in, connect. We'll hear everything."
Ezra just smirked. "You always know how to spoil me."
We let him go in first. Alone. Sharp in his navy suit, every step he took screamed confidence. Like a wolf strolling into a den full of sheep. He didn't even glance back as the maître d' led him to his table.
A few minutes later, Wang, Dre and I walked in. The restaurant was all soft light and polished marble, the kind of place where money didn't talk, it whispered. Our reservation had been set perfectly: a table in clear sight of Ezra's but angled so no one could see us without trying.
I adjusted my chair, just enough to watch him from across the room. Ezra sat back, confidence oozing like he owned the damn place.
"That's my man," Dre muttered beside me, his voice a low rumble of pride.
I couldn't help it, I grinned, leaning into Wang's shoulder. "And mine is right here."
The words came out easy, maybe too easy. Wang actually blushed, his eyes darting down as if the candlelight was suddenly too much. He tried to hide it with a frown, but I caught the curve of his lips.
Heat flushed through me. In the middle of all this danger, all this plotting, I'd made him blush.
It felt like victory.
I reached under the table, sliding my hand against his, and whispered, "Guess you're stuck with me now."
His grip tightened instantly, his eyes flicking to mine with that mix of pride and possession that always left me breathless. "Good," he said quietly. "That's exactly where I want you."
And then the restaurant doors opened.
All the air seemed to shift.
The moment the doors opened, I felt my stomach twist. Ziyi walked in wearing a blood-red dress that clung to her like it was painted on. And flanking her like shadows dressed in flesh, were Jin and Yang.
My pulse spiked. Those two weren't decoration. They were muscle. Wolves she brought into the lamb's den.
From our table, I saw Ezra move quickly, casual but calculated. He tapped his phone under the table, thumbs fast. Linking. Connecting. Within seconds, our earpieces hummed to life, faint static sharpening into the sound of Ezra's breath. He'd hooked us in.
Then he stood, smooth as silk, a smile tugging at his lips. His voice carried just enough to reach her:
"Hey, Clair."
Ziyi's eyes lit up, sly and predatory. She glided forward, the red fabric swaying with each step like fire licking the floor. She didn't even glance at the room like everyone else had ceased to exist.
"HEY," she purred, stopping just close enough for him to smell her perfume. Sweet, poisonous.
I gripped Wang tighter, knuckles aching.
Beside me, Dre muttered, "I swear to God, if she lays a hand on him—"
"Relax, love," Ezra's voice came through the feed, smooth as ever. "I've missed you too."
My eyes flicked to Wang. Calm. Focused. But I knew him too well, his jaw was clenched, the muscle tight, his hand warm against mine under the table.
Ezra leaned in, his lips curving into something between a smile and a dare. "You didn't tell me we'd be... entertaining company."
Jin and Yang took their seats without being asked, their gazes sweeping the room like predators on alert.
This wasn't just a dinner.
It was a test
All of us knew it.
Ziyi's eyes darted between Jin and Yang, her lips curving but her voice tight.
"Which of my cousins gave you my number?" she asked, standing stiff since there wasn't a chair for her.
Thank God Wang had hacked their accounts, we knew exactly where they'd been, who they'd seen. A nightclub, drunk and reckless, their guard dropped just enough for Wang to carve holes into their story.
Ezra sigh, utterly at ease. "A nightclub," he said smoothly. "That's where we met. Remember, Jake?" He angled his gaze at Jin, his smile razor-sharp. "You wouldn't shut up about how lonely Clair is. How she's a pain in the ass. How you're tired of her bringing home different men every night."
The words hit like bullets.
Ziyi hissed, snapping her head toward Jin. "You said all that?"
Jin froze, color draining from his face. "I—I swear I don't remember."
Ezra just sipped his drink like he'd been expecting that exact answer.
"You need to stop drinking," Xue Yang snapped, his eyes narrowing as if Ezra had just placed a blade at their throat. Then, without another word, he shoved his chair back and stormed out.
Jin hesitated, torn between following or trying to mend what Ezra had just shattered. Finally, he stammered, "I'm sorry," to Ziyi, before hurrying after Yang.
And just like that, the red dress didn't look so commanding anymore.
Ziyi stood alone, her fury crackling under the chandelier light. For the first time, she looked small. Cornered.
At our table, Dre's grin spread wide. "That's my man," he whispered again like it was a prayer, his jealousy forgotten in the rush of victory.
I felt Wang's hand brush against mine under the table. He didn't smile, but his eyes burned steady, proud.
This was only round one.
And we'd just drawn blood.
When the cousins left, the air around the table shifted. Ziyi's fury simmered, but Ezra never lost his composure. He simply helps her sit.
She sat, legs crossed, red silk spilling like blood over polished wood. The picture of control, at least on the outside.
Ezra smiled as if nothing had happened. "Shall we eat?"
"Why not," she replied, her voice smooth but tight around the edges.
They ordered food, wine that probably cost more than the Porsche parked outside. From across the room, it looked like two lovers on a date, leaning toward each other in low conversation. But through the link in our ears, I knew better.
Ezra's voice was velvet, easy, careful. "So, Clair... what do you do with all your time? Besides terrorizing poor Jake, of course."
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled. "You make it sound like I'm a monster."
Ezra tilted his head, amused. "Am I wrong?"
Their laughter rippled through the connection, but I caught the subtle rhythm beneath. Ezra wasn't making small talk. Every question was deliberate. Every tease layered with bait.
"So," he said after the first glasses of wine were poured, "where's home for you now? Still staying near the coast?"
Her eyes narrowed just slightly. "Sometimes. Depends on who's asking."
"I'm just curious," Ezra shrugged. "Beautiful woman like you, you must have people lined up, offering houses, cars, the works. Doesn't mean you actually want to stay."
She smirked, lifting her glass. "You're smooth."
"And you're avoiding the question," Ezra countered lightly.
From our table, Dre leaned in toward me. "He's good. Too good." His leg bounced with restless energy. "I don't like her looking at him like that."
"Relax," I whispered back. "He's peeling her apart."
And he was. Ezra laughed, listened, pushed when needed, then backed off just enough. Ziyi thought she was seducing him, pulling him into her orbit. In reality, he was charting her weaknesses, mapping her tells, cataloging the little cracks in her mask.
Wang's eyes never left them. Calm. Focused. But I knew his mind was racing, pulling threads into a larger web.
By the time the entrées arrived, Ziyi looked looser, wine-softened, her guard slipping with every story she spilled about old trips, business meetings, family feuds.
Ezra leaned in slightly, voice velvet over steel. "You know, Clair... people tell you things when they're tired of being afraid of you. You ever wonder what your cousins say when you're not in the room?"
Her smile froze. Just for a second. Then she laughed too loud.
And in that crack, I knew Ezra had found the first door in.
The restaurant was all soft jazz and candlelight, plates clinking, wine flowing. To anyone watching us, we were just another customer enjoying dinner. Wang's hand rested casually against mine under the table, his thumb tracing lazy patterns over my skin as if to remind me he was here, no matter what we heard.
Dre ordered half the menu, muttering between bites, "If Ezra kisses her, I'm storming that table."
I grinned, pouring him another glass of wine. "Relax. He's just talking."
Talking, yes, but what a show. Ezra leaned back in his chair across the room, his smile practiced and devastating, his gestures loose, charming. Through the link in our ears, his voice was smooth as silk.
"You know, Clair," he said, swirling his glass, "people think I was born with everything. Truth is, I had nothing. Just a mother who worked herself to death and a father I barely remember. Everything I have, I built myself."
A blatant lie. I almost choked on my food. Dre glared at the table as if Ziyi was stupid for buying it.
But Ziyi leaned in, eyes soft, intrigued. "So what changed?"
Ezra sighed, the kind that carried weight and mystery. "I got tired of being invisible. So I made myself someone people couldn't ignore. The kind of man people remember."
"Sounds lonely," she purred.
Ezra's smile curved, perfectly timed. "Not when I have the right company." His eyes glittered under the chandelier light, all warmth and invitation, but underneath I could hear the calculation in his tone.
Beside me, Wang chuckled under his breath. "He's good."
"He's too good," Dre hissed, stabbing at his steak like it had personally offended him. "Why does he have to talk like that? Why does she have to look at him like that?"
"Because," Wang said calmly, lifting his glass, "she's already stepping into the trap."
Ezra leaned closer to Ziyi, voice dropping just enough that we could still hear it clear in our earpieces. "You don't let many people in, do you?"
Her lashes lowered, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Maybe I just haven't met someone worth it."
Ezra laughed softly, tilting his head. "Maybe you just did."
I felt my pulse jump. Not with jealousy, not with fear, but with the sick thrill of the game.
Ezra was feeding her lies, spinning a net around her with every word. And Ziyi, poisonous, dangerous, was leaning right into it.
And all we had to do was sit there, wine and dine, and listen as she swallowed every word.