(Ja’kari POV)

The forest was too quiet.

Too still.

That kind of stillness only meant one thing — death was close.

By the time I made it to the clearing, the group was surrounded.

Two rifles. Five unarmed kids.

Asia’s eyes were wide, Kelo’s fists clenched, and Jayla… she was shaking so bad her breath came in little gasps.

Kylee tried to shield her, but the taller twin hit her with the butt of his gun — hard.

She went down, blood tracing her lip.

My jaw locked.

That sound flipped something in me.

“On your knees!” one of them barked.

The shorter twin grabbed Asia by the hair, gun pressing to her temple. “Where is Ja’kari?” he growled.

“Tell me where he’s hiding or I start thinning your little group.”

Asia spat blood at his boots. “Go to hell.”

He laughed. “Hell’s already here, sweetheart.”

The other one moved toward Jayla, crouching, dragging his pistol along her cheek and smiled. “Let’s see how much you’re worth.”

That was it.

No hesitation.

No mercy.

⸻

One breath.

One drop from the trees.

One cut.

SHHHK.

The katana sliced through the first one’s wrist before he could blink. His hand hit the dirt, still gripping the gun.

The second turned — and my blade whispered through the air.

Clean.

Silent.

Final.

The group froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

Blood dripped from the steel — black and crimson against the moonlight.

Jayla fell back, hands trembling, staring at the lifeless bodies.

She didn’t scream — she just stared at me like she was seeing something both holy and horrifying.

I turned toward the one still alive — the one missing a hand — and grabbed him by the collar.

“Talk.”

He wheezed, eyes wild. “You— you were supposed to be dead.”

“Not dead enough,” I said flatly. “Where’s the rest of the clan?”

“They scattered,” he coughed. “East coast… near the docks. Your father’s still in charge— the shipment—”

“What shipment?” I demanded.

“Four point eight billion,” he gasped. “Weapons, tech, drugs — guarded by naval ships and subs. You’ll never—”

SHHHK.

He didn’t finish.

I dragged his body deeper into the trees, leaving no trace, no grave — just silence.

⸻

When I got back, the sun was starting to rise.

The others were in the doorway — pale, shaken, silent.

I dropped the katana on the table.

Its weight echoed through the room.

“My father,” I said quietly, “is still alive.”

Asia blinked. “You told us he was gone.”

“He should’ve been.” My voice was rough. “But he’s not. He’s running a four-point-eight-billion-dollar shipment. And he’s not just surviving — he’s building an empire.”

Kylee’s voice cracked. “So you’re just gonna kill him? He’s OUR father, Ja’kari.”

I looked up. “That’s exactly why.”

She slammed her hand against the table. “You sound just like him!”

“I’m nothing like him.”

That ended it.

The silence cut deeper than any blade could.

Kylee stormed off. Asia followed, muttering something under her breath.

Kelo lingered, studying me like he was deciding whether to fear me or follow me.

“You’re serious about this, huh?” he asked.

“Dead serious.”

He nodded. “Then I’m in. Someone’s gotta keep you from doing something stupid.”

Kylee’s voice came from the hall, weak but steady. “IF MY MAN GOES I GO.I’m not letting you go alone.”

Asia stopped halfway up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder. “If you’re going to war, you’ll need someone who can think straight.”

I gave her a faint nod. “Then you’d better start now.”

Jayla didn’t say anything.

She just stood there, eyes locked on me — half afraid, half drawn in.

⸻

Later that day, I found peace in motion.

The forest.

The path.

The weight of Star’s katana still warm in my hand.

I didn’t notice Jayla until I heard her footsteps crunch softly behind me.

“You really like being followed, huh?” I muttered.

She shrugged. “Maybe I just like finding out what you’re hiding.”

I stopped walking, turning toward her. “You don’t know what you’re looking for.”

“Maybe I do,” she said quietly. “Maybe I just don’t know why.”

Her eyes met mine — calm but searching. The kind of look that could cut deeper than any blade.

I sighed, breaking eye contact. “You should be resting.”

“You should be honest.”

That hit harder than I expected.

I turned away, scanning the trees. “Honesty gets people killed.”

“So does silence,” she whispered.

The wind carried her words between us, soft and heavy.

I finally looked back. “You really think you want to know what I’ve done?”

“I think I already do,” she said. “And I think you hate yourself more than any of us ever could.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I caught sight of her arm — a faint scar running down the inside.

I reached for it without thinking. “Where’d this come from?”

Her voice cracked just a little. “My babysitter. I was seven. She used to drink… said I talked too much. One night, she decided to make me stop.”

I felt something twist inside me — anger, sorrow, maybe both. “What happened to her?”

“She’s gone now. But sometimes I still hear her. Sometimes I still flinch when people raise their voice.”

I exhaled, slow. “You don’t deserve that.”

She smiled sadly. “You don’t deserve to be alone either.”

That shut me up.

Because she was right — and I had no idea how to answer that kind of truth.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy.

It was… grounding.

Like the chaos had stopped spinning for once.

⸻

What neither of us noticed was the shadow standing at the edge of the trees — Asia.

She’d followed, unseen, watching the way Jayla looked at me… and the way I looked back.

I saw her turn away before I could say anything — her expression unreadable, her chest rising fast like she’d just realized something she didn’t want to believe.

⸻

By the time we got back to the mansion, the others were waiting.

Kylee, Kelo, Lina, and Asia — all sitting, tense, but ready.

I stood in the doorway. “You all heard the story. My father’s got a four-point-eight-billion-dollar shipment moving soon. I’m going after it.”

Kelo looked around, then back at me. “And you’re saying we should just what — help you take down an international crime syndicate?”

“I’m saying if you stay, you train,” I said. “If you leave, you walk out that door now.”

Kylee hesitated, then squared her shoulders. “I’m staying.”

Kelo smirked. “Guess that means I am too.”

Asia crossed her arms, avoiding my gaze. “You’ll need someone to plan, not just fight. I’m in.”

Lina smiled faintly. “And I’m not letting them die without supervision.”

Then Jayla stepped forward, voice firm but soft. “I’m in too.”

I looked at her for a long moment. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Because maybe you’re not the only one who needs saving.”

That hit harder than I let it show.

⸻

When the meeting broke, I went outside.

Same porch.

Same quiet.

Same ghosts.

I sat down, cleaned the katana slowly, watching the blood fade under the sunset.

Lina joined me, leaning against the post. “You really think you can kill him?”

“I don’t think,” I said. “I know.”

She studied me. “And if you can’t?”

I looked at the blade, seeing my reflection ripple in the steel. “Then I die trying.”

Lina exhaled. “You know this doesn’t end well, right?”

“It’s not supposed to,” I said.

“Some wars don’t end. They just wait for someone willing to finish them.”

The wind moved through the trees — soft, almost like it agreed.

And somewhere inside, I knew this was the beginning of the end.

The night was darker than usual — thick clouds masking the moon, shadows bleeding together until the forest looked endless.

Everyone else had gone inside, but sleep wasn’t something I earned easily.

So I trained.

Slow strikes. Controlled breath.

Each movement slicing through the air like an echo of memory.

From the outside, it was just a silhouette — a shadow against the dim light, a blade glinting now and then.

But inside, it was a war I fought alone.

I heard her before I saw her. Soft steps. A pause. Then—

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

Asia’s voice. Calm, curious. A little hesitant.

I lowered the katana and turned. She was wrapped in a hoodie, arms folded, eyes half-tired but still sharp.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” I said.

“You didn’t,” she replied. “Just… couldn’t stop thinking about everything. About you. About Jayla.”

Her words lingered in the air, heavy and deliberate.

I wiped the blade, resting it against the wall. “What about her?”

She hesitated. “I saw how you looked at her earlier. Like she’s… different.”

For a second, I almost smiled. “She is different.”

Asia’s eyes flickered. “So, you like her?”

I looked at her — really looked.

Her brown skin glowed faintly under the porch light, her curls catching the wind.

There was strength in her stare — and something else, something softer.

“No,” I said quietly. “I like you.”

That stunned her. Her mouth parted slightly, eyes darting up to meet mine like she wasn’t sure if I was serious.

“Me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “You’ve been here through everything. You don’t flinch when I break. You call me out when I need it. You see the worst parts of me and stay anyway.”

She smiled faintly, but her voice shook. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

“I notice everything,” I said.

For the first time, she didn’t look away. She just stood there, eyes tracing the scars on my forearm, then the lines of my jaw.

“Never realized how human you actually look when you’re not fighting,” she murmured.

That made me laugh — soft, unexpected. “And how’s that?”

“Like someone who’s still figuring out what peace feels like.”

We talked after that.

Not about blood or battles — just… life.

Dumb things. Music. The ocean. How she used to fall asleep to thunder because it made her feel safe.

For a while, I forgot who I was supposed to be.

When the silence came back, it wasn’t heavy. It was calm.

I leaned down, close enough to smell the faint hint of her perfume — something sweet, like vanilla and rain — and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

She froze, then exhaled softly, eyes closing for half a second.

“I don’t make promises,” I said quietly. “But I’ll make one to you.”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “What kind of promise?”

“That I’ll always be there for you,” I said. “No matter what comes next.”

Her eyes shimmered, not from tears — but something deeper. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” I said, standing straight again. “For the first time in a long time… I do.”

I turned, sliding the katana back into its sheath, and started for the door.

Behind me, I heard her let out a breath — shaky, relieved, maybe even happy.

When I went inside, the house was dim, silent again.

I sat on the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion finally settle in.

Moments later, I felt movement — soft footsteps, then warmth.

Asia slipped quietly onto the couch, laying across me, her head resting against my chest.

I didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

My hand found her waist, holding her close — not possessive, just… steady.

Her breathing evened out.

And for the first time in years, I fell asleep without fear.

The blade rested against the wall beside us — silent, clean, and waiting.

But tonight wasn’t about war.

Tonight was about peace I never thought I’d find.