1
The night was unusually long today.
Noah was seated behind his desk, his fingers tapping idly on the surface, but his mind was anything but idle. The dull hum of the office was a stark contrast to the chaos of the world outside—until the door to his office swung open without warning. His gaze snapped to the entrance, already anticipating the interruption.
It was Adam, stepping in with Frey in tow. But something was different. Something was off. The usual composed, confident Frey, who could command a room with nothing more than a look, was now standing there, swaying, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His body looked limp, fragile almost, and that unfamiliar vulnerability made something in Noah's chest tighten.
"What happened?" he demanded, his voice colder than he felt. It was the only way he knew how to mask the undercurrent of concern that was beginning to gnaw at him. But as his eyes flicked over Frey's disheveled form, the usual coldness he clung to felt... wrong. This wasn't the Frey he was used to dealing with—the unbreakable leader, the cocky, untouchable force.
The young man before him was crumbling, and for reasons Noah couldn't explain, it unsettled him more than it should have.
"What the hell happened?"
"Help me, Uncle" Frey whispered, almost inaudible, but his eyes—those beautiful, desperate eyes—spoke volumes. His voice cracked again as he took another shaky step closer, his breath coming out in uneven gasps.
The heat radiating from Frey's body hit Noah like a wall, and it only made the tension between them sharper. He was too close now, too close for comfort, but Noah didn't step back.
"What happened to you?" Noah demanded again, his hands almost itching to reach out, to do something to help, but he remained frozen in place.
Frey didn't answer immediately. Instead, he just looked at Noah, his lips trembling, like he wanted to say something more but couldn't find the words. The silence stretched for a moment before he whispered, barely above a breath, "I... need you, Noah."
________
3 months earlier-
Frey Volkvo, a young mafia newest leader that climbed to his throne by himself. Carving his own name onto the line. He is an energetic young man. A puppy-like energy kind of person. The one that smiles like a damn fool, smell like a sweet cotton, walk full with elegance.
Yet, the masked underneath was the opposite of him. Cold, ruthless, fearless. The one that everyone feared with only his words. Thats why he could make himself a place to sit, to lead.
" Your next meeting would be at 3pm, would you like to have your lunch beforehand ? " Adam, his beloved right hand man. And a bestfriend, a blood brothers. He would die for him, unquestioned.
" Are you hungry ? " The young man asked tilting his head a little, as if the boss wasnt him. He wait for Adam to answer the question. If he is a dog, the tail would wiggling as he waits.
Adam nod, not really hungry actually but he need to make sure the young man be fed. " Okay then, lets go for food ! " He smile, damn sweet. Adam nod again. Not much words ever coming out from that mouth.
" Can we go to Uncle first before the meeting ? Do we have time ? "
Adam glanced at his watch, eyes sharp as always.
"You have forty-five minutes. If we leave now and don't stay long... it's doable," he answered, voice flat but not dismissive.
Frey's smile widened, and for a second, the weight of the mafia crown on his head didn't exist. He was just a boy again—young, vibrant, asking to see his uncle like he was still under someone's wing.
But Adam knew better. He had seen it—the shift—when those eyes lost their shine and turned sharp like blades. Frey Volkvo was no boy anymore.
"Okay, okay!" Frey beamed, grabbing his coat with a hop in his step. "Let's go! Uncle must be bored anyway."
Adam gave a soft sigh through his nose, adjusting his sleeves. He didn't understand the exact nature of their bond—Frey and his uncle—but he knew enough. He'd seen how Frey got whenever the man was mentioned. There was something obsessive in the way Frey's attention shifted. As if his whole empire meant nothing next to that one man.
A dangerous kind of fixation.
As the young man about to move his ass for foods, his phone vibrate inside his pants. A call.
-noah uncle 🤍-
His eye smiles before his lips curve.
" Hey uncle i w-
" D-dont. Just dont do anything to him ! Dont touch my fucking nephew ! " a rough voices, a desperate one. His uncle. But, the message wasnt for him ? Someone else there ? What happend ? WHO ? HOW ?! WHY ?!
" Hello young man, Volkvo isnt it ? " another voice, unfamiliar. Who the hell ? A soft hummed followed by a quirky laugh. Frey hated how it sounded.
" Who ? " sharp, calm.
Adam who was behind him before was now already move himself near him. A sense of danger, the radar was turn on. Something happend by the look of the young man. He doesnt need to know, he just understand the look.
" You dont need to know, this isnt a warning. Far a threat. Just a greet from me, to you. "
The call ended not with a click, but with silence.
No dial tone. No static. Just silence—cold, absolute silence.
Frey stood frozen. His smile was long gone, replaced by a stillness Adam had only seen once before—the day Frey took his first kill and didn't blink.
"Track it," Frey muttered, voice low, flat, murderous.
Adam didn't need clarification. "Already on it."
Frey's hand slowly lowered from his ear. His eyes, once filled with life, now held nothing. Not rage. Not panic.
Just calculation.
Who?
Who dared?
Who had the audacity to not just threaten him, but touch Noah?
The muscles in his jaw twitched. His fingers curled into a fist so tight, his knuckles cracked.
"Adam," he said, voice as calm as still water before a storm. "Cancel the meeting."
Adam looked up from his phone. "Done."
"And the food."
Adam nodded again. He didn't ask questions. He didn't have to.
"We're going to get Uncle."
Frey turned on his heel, his presence no longer playful nor charming.
Now he walked like death in cotton candy skin.
His cotton-sweet scent turned bitter with bloodlust.
