Crystal Avenue. 9:06 pm.
The night was still young, yet Katherine felt centuries older. She sat on the edge of her bed, she stared at the thin crack of moonlight that sliced through the blinds. Her reflection in the dresser mirror looked foreign… eyes swollen, her lips trembled and her hair clinged to damp skin from a shower that hadn't washed away her shame.
Mila stirred in her crib, a soft whimper escaped her tiny lips. Katherine rushed over, pressing her hand against the baby's chest, she whispered "Shh… mommy's here, mommy's here." The words caught in her throat— she was not sure if she was trying to soothe her daughter or herself.
From the living room below, she heard muffled footsteps; Jason's heavy stride, steady and unhurried. He hadn't left after the situation that went on, longer than it should. Instead, he lingered in the shadows of the house like a storm cloud that refused to pass.
Katherine picked Mila up and pressed her warmth against her chest. She breathed her in, desperate for the comfort of innocence. Yet the weight of her choices knocked harder. Antonio's lips… Jason's eyes… Stephen's voice telling her "I love you".
Suddenly… the staircase creaked.
Her pulse jumped. She turned her head sharply, as she clutched Mila tighter then Jason appeared at the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his gaze soft but searching.
"You look like you haven't slept in weeks." Jason murmured. Katherine swallowed, her lips parted but no words arrived. "Don't worry. I'm not here to cause trouble." Jason said. His voice was almost soothing, but his presence filled the room like smoke.
Katherine lowered her eyes. She brushed her cheek against Mila's hair.
"Trouble already lives here." she whispered, more to herself than him. Jason stepped closer, deliberately a slow approach. He stopped a few feet away, kept his distance but his eyes never left hers. For a long moment, silence stretched between them… a silence heavy with guilt, curiosity, and regrets?
Her chest tightened as her thoughts spiraled.
'If Stephen knew… if Antonio pushed further… if Jason stayed longer…'
Katherine closed her eyes and swayed gently with Mila in her arms. She whispered a lullaby she barely remembered, but her voice cracked and the song dissolved into a broken hum. Jason shifted his weight with a soft sigh.
"You don't have to sing it alone." Jason said gently. And in that moment…with her child against her chest and her husband's brother in the room. Katherine realized her heart was no longer her own.
157. PINE STREET.
69 Mimic. 9:10 p.m.
The club that spoke volumes without ever saying a word. It was packed like the world was ending tomorrow. Stephen and Antonio drifted through the crowd as the deep electric bass thundered, and rattled the walls— as if it were summoning the whole of San El Zorro.
Inside, the chaos glowed. The retro lights pulsed against smoky air, lasers sliced through the darkness, and the atmosphere crackled like static. Adults shed their skins, reverting into reckless, untamed kids. Bouncers loomed at every corner—ground floor, second floor, even the velvet-rope V.I.P lounge. Eyes watched everything, but no one cared.
The dance floor was a storm, bodies collided, sweat stank drenched with laughter and screams blended with the music. Some clung to the bar counter, barely conscious, while others surrendered completely to the floor, yet they were still part of the rhythm.
Antonio guided Stephen to the elevator, "Where are we going!?" Stephen shouted over the boosted bass, his voice nearly swallowed by the music.
"You'll see soon enough!" Antonio yelled back, he grinned like he knew a secret. They slipped into the elevator, Antonio jabbed the button and let the heavy doors slide shut behind them. Instantly, the noise dulled. The bass faded into a distant throb, muffled by steel walls. For the first time since they walked in, Stephen could hear his own breath.
Antonio smoothed his hair back like nothing unusual just happened. "It's loud in there." he muttered. "Yeah, this place makes Jack's look like a church." Stephen dissed. Antonio laughed… he leaned against the rail of the elevator, a sly smirk curled across his face.
"Let's just hope Amanda didn't hear you." Antonio replied cunningly.
The elevator doors slid open with a low chime. This floor was a different world—darker and quieter. The bass pounded from below like a faint pulse. A narrow corridor stretched ahead, lined with poles where strippers moved with slow, hypnotic grace. Neon highlights glittered across their skin, the glow reflecting in Stephen's uneasy eyes. Beside each pole, heavy curtains draped over narrow doorways, concealed whatever vices unfolded on the other side. From behind one, the softest laughter slipped out—low and dangerous.
Stephen swallowed hard, an invisible weight settled on him. Every instinct screamed he shouldn't be here, yet the wrongness carried a twisted allure. For one fragile moment, the forbidden felt like the only thing that made sense. Antonio, calm as ever, walked casually down the corridor as though it were a hallway in his own home. Stephen followed reluctantly, his steps echoed in the dim light.
At the end, a pair of massive bouncers flanked a metal door scarred with scratches and dents, its surface painted matte black. Their eyes tracked the two men.
"Hey guys, service for me and my brother." Antonio requested smoothly. One of the bouncers did not move, did not blink… his eyes locked on Stephen like he was trying to peel him apart layer by layer. The other slipped a phone from his pocket, the blue glow lit up his face in the dim hallway. His thumb scrolled deliberately, then paused.
"Y'all not on the list." Bouncer one said flatly, his voice was low and heavy. "Nah—I'm friends with the owner's son." Antonio replied confidently. "Yeah? Well, That don't mean shit!" Bouncer two snapped.
"OK, look—how 'bout you call him and find out." Antonio suggested smoothly, Both bouncers glanced at each other, a silent exchange passed between them like static.
"Alright." Bouncer one rumbled "But if you bullshitting—I'm gonna throw you out myself."
A mischievous smirk spread on Antonio's face "Tell him, Big Anton is here." he said. "Wait here." Bouncer one muttered the he stepped inside. The hinges groaned as the door cracked open. Warm light spilled out. Sax; clarinet and a piano tuned from inside, along with the low hum of voices, muffled laughter, and the faint smell of expensive cigars. Then The door shut.
That left Stephen and Antonio standing under the cold gaze of Bouncer two, who still hadn't blinked. "You sure this is a good idea?" Stephen asked. Antonio didn't look at him… his eyes stayed locked on the metal door as if he could see through it. The smirk never left his face. "Good idea?" Antonio repeated. "No. But the right one? Definitely."
Stephen exhaled sharply, and rubbed the back of his neck. "You've got a messed-up definition of 'right,' hermano."
The black door shifted again, it opened wider this time. A burst of golden light spilled into the corridor, brighter now and revealed a glimpse of velvet curtains and the faint silhouette of people moving inside. The music more clearer now, cigarette smoke curled out lazily mixed with the sweet, sharp sting of whiskey in the air. The bouncer stepped back through the doorway, his face unreadable. He gave Antonio one silent nod. "Boss's son says you can enter." bouncer one said.
Antonio turned to Stephen, his grin widening. "See? Told you."
Stephen and Antonio stepped through the heavy doors, and instantly the atmosphere transformed. Gone was the raw chaos of the club below. Here, it was something darker—refined and primordial. A paradise for men who carried both money and danger in their pockets.
The room stretched wide, carved into sectors that each whispered luxury and vice. Multiple snooker tables glowed beneath the hung lamps, games unfolded with sharp clicks of ivory balls and quiet laughter. Strippers and hookers strutted across the floor in stilettos, weaving between tables, their movements rehearsed yet intoxicating. At the center, a massive V.I.P. bar dominated the space. Its polished mahogany gleamed under soft amber light, stocked with bottles that looked as expensive as they smelled… cognac, whiskey, champagne, lined like trophies.
On the far right, a raised lounge wrapped in ornate railings shimmered in gold detail. Bouncers in tailored suits guarded the steps that lead up, their eyes scanned the floor below. Behind them men with heavy watches and heavier secrets leaned back in plush chairs, cigars smoldered between their fingers. alluring women draped themselves across their laps like ornaments, they giggled into their ears.
Smooth, slow jazz oozed through the air, an eerie counterpoint to the indulgence around them. It coated the room in something surreal, as if sin itself had a soundtrack. Stephen and Antonio exchanged a look, both felt uneasy. Neither knew what was about to unfold, but each felt it. The prophecy of something that loomed, heavy in their stomachs then just crawled beneath the surface. This wasn't just another floor of the club. This was the heart of it.
352. SINISTER ROAD.
Kyalami Theaters. 9:20 pm
Tokyo; Michael and Marcel Hung around, outside Kyalami Theaters, the glow of neon billboards wrapped around them like an untamed current. Saturday night thrummed with life, streets packed shoulder to shoulder, car horns bled into laughter, and the giant billboards that towered over Sinister Road, blazed with promises of movies and sins waiting to be bought. From afar, skyscrapers cut into the sky, their lights bright enough to mimic a second dawn. Marcel shoved popcorn into his mouth, kernels crunched between his teeth. Beside him, Michael leaned into the shadows, he took a slow drag from his joint, and scrolled endlessly on his cellphone.
Tokyo let out a sharp exhale, her eyes cut sideways at both of them. Then she rolled her eyes, it was clear. "Cain is a good merchant, but has terrible taste in movies." Tokyo said plainly.
Marcel pointed at Tokyo with a greasy finger. "Well, it was your idea to go watch a movie." he said with certainty.
Tokyo clicked her tongue "I'm still gonna pretend like you don't exist." Tokyo shot back. "What did I do… to deserve this much disrespect?" Marcel's voice cracked.
"Existing." Michael said nonchalantly. Tokyo eyes narrowed as she scrolled on her cellphone "Well looks like Abigail is busy—she won't pick up her phone." she said.
Michael raised a brow "Wasn't she with Kyle?" he asked.
Tokyo scrolled back a bit on her phone. "Yeah… last time I saw both of them, they were at the park." Marcel's eyes glinted with mischief. "Hmm… y'all on the same page as me?" heasked.
Tokyo chuckled. "Yeah—nope. Trust me, you don't wanna fall for a Jack."
Michael brows knitted "Fall for a with a Jack?" he repeated. Tokyo gave him a look of pity. "Wow… you really don't know who Amanda Jack is? You must live under a rock." Marcel let out a shaky laugh. "Oh, I know her… she's scary as fuck." Tokyo rolled her eyes. "Please. Amanda is cool as fuck.", she replied.
Then Tokyo's phone rang. She sighed and flashed a crooked smile. "Looks like my sped taxi's here."
"Damn… you weren't even gonna tell us you're leaving?" Michael said, his tone edged with disappointment. Tokyo walked toward her sped taxi. "Since Abigail's busy, I thought it'd be best if I went home."
Michael and Marcel stood frozen as Tokyo slipped into the backseat, gave her driver the details then shut the door. Just before the car rolled away, she shot Michael a playful wink. Tokyo leaned back, she already pictured her pillow… completely unaware by the time she walked through her front door, she would find an vague uncle she never knew existed… and sleep could be the last thing on her mind.