Warning - Near the ending of this chapter, there are mild mentions of public sex and threesome (NOT between the main characters!) and a random couple is having sex on the hood of a car . . . so, yeah, that's all.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" Emily's voice sliced through the air, each word hitting Noah like a sting in his ears.

Noah winced but kept his gaze on the old, creaky floorboards. His thoughts spun in a thousand directions-Isaac, pale and frail in that hospital bed; Ramiya clutching her chest, barely holding on; the eviction notice hanging over them like a ticking bomb.

I need money. Loads of money. Fast.

"Oh my God," Emily muttered, her voice tight, lips pressing into a thin line. "You're actually serious, aren't you?"

The silence stretched.

Emily stared at Noah for a while, disbelief and anger clouding her features before she let out an exasperated breath. "You know what? I'm done. I can't do this anymore."

She turned towards the door, her steps quick, "I can't be part of your bullshit, Noah. Not again. I-"

"Emily, wait!" Noah called out, more desperate than he intended. His eyes lifted to her, pleading. "Please, Em. Just hear me out."

Emily's hand hovered over the doorknob, her fingers twitching as if torn between leaving and staying. Her expression softened for a moment as she let out a deep sigh. Then she finally turned to face Noah, her eyes drilling into him, searching his face, "Noah, what you are saying . . . you know that this is dangerous, right? You can't just put your pendant up for sale in the black market like it's no big deal. The people there . . . they're not the sort you want to get involved with. They won't even think twice before screwing you over-or worse. They're ruthless. They would kill for much less than what you're holding."

"I know, Em. But-"

Noah could feel Emily's judgment pressing down on him like a weight he couldn't shake.

But what choice did he have?

Noah understood exactly what he was asking for, knew he was pushing himself into a dangerous territory, but this wasn't about him anymore. Too many people were relying on him-and he couldn't afford to let them down.

"I have to do it, Em. It's the only way," Noah said, determined.

Emily's eyes flashed with something. Concern, maybe?

Her mouth parted as if she had a thousand more things to say. But instead, she just sighed, again, running a hand through her hair. "Just don't get yourself killed, Noah."

Noah let out a dry laugh, "Yeah, I'll try not to add that to my to-do list."

"So, how exactly are you planning on pulling this off?" Emily raised an eyebrow, leaning against the door, her arms crossed, "Because if you are counting on my old connections again, Noah, then let me remind you-I'm not the national crush Emalia Harrow anymore. After that . . . that accident, everything changed. And the way I helped you with your . . . well, this whole Noah-persona of yours? That was a different time, a different me. I simply don't have those kinds of people in my pocket anymore. I can't-I can't pull strings like that."

She paused, her voice softer but firm. "I'm not that person anymore, Noah. I just . . . can't."

Noah took a deep breath, knowing what she meant. The life Emily had lived before-when she was a shining figure skating star, all glitz and high society, with people eager to be in her orbit-was long gone. Her connections, her power, her influence, all faded with the fall. But that wasn't what he needed from her right now.

"I don't need you to be that person, Em," Noah said, his voice quiet but firm. "Just . . . stand by me. Don't walk away. That's all I need."

Emily swallowed, then gave a small nod, her hands slowly dropping to her sides, "Alright, what's your plan?"

Noah hesitated for a beat, rubbing the back of his neck.

Here comes the hard part.

"I-" he started.

"Yeah?"

"I might know someone who can help."

Emily frowned, "Who?"

Noah shifted uncomfortably, his mouth suddenly dry. The name felt heavy on his tongue.

Noah hadn't spoken to him for quite a long time.

Not even once in three years.

"Noah, tell me." Emily urged.

"Z." Noah blurted out.

"Z?" Emily's frown grew deeper, "Who the hell is that?"

"It's Jack," Noah said softly, his voice almost like a whisper. "He goes by Z now."

Emily's expression darkened in an instant, disbelief flashing in her wide eyes-just as Noah had expected.

"Jack?" Emily spat out, her voice laced with venom. "You mean that Jacquemier Jack?"

Noah forced a nervous laugh, trying to diffuse the tension, "Well, he doesn't use that name anymore."

"Noah! What the fuck?"

"Emily, calm down-"

"I can't believe it, Noah!" Emily's voice rose, vibrating with anger, "You're still in touch with him? After everything? He almost got us all killed, Noah!"

Noah flinched at her words, memories of that night crashing over him like a tidal wave-those men bursting in, the cold steel of their guns pressed against Ramiya's temple, the panic, the helplessness . . .

Noah drew in a shaky breath, forcing the images back.

"It . . . it wasn't Jack's fault," he murmured, but even to his own ears, the words felt weak and unconvincing.

"Of course it was!" Emily snapped, her eyes blazing with fury. "He brought the mafia here, Noah! To this orphanage! He didn't just put himself in danger-he put us in the crossfire. Don't you remember? That night . . . oh God, Noah, if you hadn't turned into-into whatever the hell that was . . . we'd all be dead. Me. Maman. You. Everyone!"

Noah clenched his fists, his throat tightening. "He was just trying to hide from them, Em. He didn't know-"

"Didn't know?" Emily's voice was thick with sarcasm. "Well, then maybe he shouldn't have gotten himself involved in all that mafia bullshit to begin with! He chose to drag his mess here. He put us all at risk, Noah! And now, you want to trust him again?"

Noah's pulse pounded in his ears. He knew Emily was right, to an extent, but he also knew that Jacquemier-Jack-who liked to call himself Z now, hadn't intended for any of that to happen.

Z had been just a naive nineteen-year-old at that time, wide-eyed and desperate for a life beyond the faded walls of the orphanage, willing to explore the colourful world outside. . .
And just like every other stupid teenager, he had gotten himself caught up in something that was way too big for him to handle.

"He didn't mean for it to go down like that," Noah said, his voice tight. "He was scared. So he decided to hide here. Didn't know they would track him down."

"Bullshit!" Emily glared at him, "Look at you! Defending him! I know exactly why you are doing this. It's because he let you fuck him a few times, isn't it?"

"Emily!" Noah flushed.

"Cut the act!"

"But-"

"You were obsessed with him back then, Noah! You think no one noticed? Also, didn't he break up with you on that very same night? Maman told me you guys were done for good!"

Noah clenched his jaw, feeling a bitter edge rising in his throat, "There was never anything serious between us, Em. It was just sex. Plain and simple."

And yet I've always had a thing for him. Silly me.

Jack-no, Z had always been so different from the other kids at the orphanage-older, little bit rough around the edges, always getting into trouble . . . there was just something magnetic about him. Something that drew Noah in. At seventeen, Noah hadn't understood what it was at first, that pull towards Z, but eventually, it became clear.

And Z had been Noah's first in almost everything. The first time Noah had let himself feel something other than the constant swirl of confusion that came with teenage hormones. The first person to make Noah see himself in a different light.

They had shared their first kiss on that cursed night of Noah's eighteenth birthday, just moments before Noah's world had came apart . . .

But that kiss . . . the way Z's lips had moved over Noah's, urgent yet teasing-it had been so fiery, so intense, so electrifying, jolting something to life inside Noah that he himself hadn't known was there. And afterwards, when Z had pulled back-their faces still inches apart-it was like a dam had broken loose inside Noah. And that was when Noah had realized-he wasn't just into girls. He was into boys too, into Z, into the way Z's firm body had felt against his, into the way Z had made him feel seen . . . in a way that was so raw and real and right.

But it's all over now. For good.

"How are you still in touch with him? After all these years?" Emily's question pulled Noah out of his musings.

"Well," Noah chewed on his bottom lip, debating how much to tell Emily, "We hooked up a few more times after . . . everything."

"God! Noah! I can't believe it!"

Noah exhaled, "We don't do that anymore, Em."

"Hah," Emily snorted.

"Z's with someone else now, or at least trying to be. He is working as an escort. Told me he's in love with the manager."

"So you got dumped again?"

"I-"

"And you still wanna trust him?"

"No, I-" Noah huffed, "Em, he knows people. Can find us a potential buyer. Without the permits."

Emily studied Noah for a moment, her jaw tight, "He's a goddamn bastard and fucking dangerous. Hell, he's always been dangerous. And you, of all people, should know that."

"I'm well aware, Em," Noah said, his voice low but his eyes hard. "But he's the only one we can count on right now."

"And what makes you think he would be so eager to help?"

"Trust me," Noah said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "I know exactly what to say to get him on board."

------------------*------------------

Noah adjusted the lacy mask on his face one more time as he stood in the dimly lit parking lot of Silken Delights, leaning against a random sports car and clutching the strap of his satchel.

He felt ridiculous without his usual glasses.

Not that he needed them-they were just part of this whole Noah-look that Ramiya had set him up with so many years ago, the same way she had insisted he keep his hair tamed.

"Act shy and try to look like a stereotypical nerd." His maman had said.

She had watched way too many Superman movies and decided that big old glasses were the perfect disguise to tone down Noah's electric blue eyes.

He'd laughed at the idea back then, but Ramiya had been so serious about it that he had ultimately agreed, just to make her happy.

Over the years, he had gotten used to those shiny, round things framing his eyes. And now, standing here, in front of the luxurious clubhouse without his specs and the edges of the mask uncomfortably pressing into his skin, he felt so odd . . . and exposed.

The club stood before him with its glass-and-steel facade glowing under neon lights, casting a moody, reddish hue over everything. Smooth, minimalist lines defined the building's modern architecture, and the name Silken Delights was etched in sleek, glittering silver above the entrance, glinting under the spotlight as if beckoning the visitors into its depths.

A low, pulsing bass was seeping through the walls, each beat vibrating through the pavement and humming beneath Noah's feet. He could hear occasional throaty laughs, low moans and seductive murmurs as the club members disappeared behind the towering, glass-paneled doors marking the entrance.

The whole atmosphere was charged-the air thick with the scent of sex and sandalwood, mixing with faint traces of sweet perfume as the crowd flowed in. They moved like liquid, draped in shimmering silks and satins, sporting glimmering masquerade masks-some with beads and feathers, others with jewel-studded edges-much more elaborate than Noah's plain black one.

That was the club rule.

Members must wear a mask-non-negotiable.

Something about anonymity and all that.

And it all somehow added to the allure.

After all, behind the mask, you can be anyone, Noah supposed that was the point. Everyone comes here to just disappear into something else. To become someone else. Even if just for a few hours.

A loud bark of laughter snapped Noah out of his thoughts, making him turn his head, eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask.

He spotted a man-clad in a golden suit-standing beside a cherry red convertible, being sandwiched by two women in sequined mini-skirts. The man's face was hidden beneath a golden fox mask, while the women wore feathery silver ones-as if they had coordinated a look. They were talking, or more like bickering, and the sounds traveled easily enough to Noah's . . . well, unnatural ears.

"Come on, the private rooms are way better for this kinda thing," the man was saying, his voice low but laced with suggestion. "More privacy, less chance of interruptions. Plus we get that nice couch. I mean, don't you want somewhere . . . comfortable?"

The woman on his right chuckled, resting her hand on his chest.

"Comfort is overrated, sweetheart," she purred. "Why hide? There's something so much hotter about people watching, don't you think? Besides, if we're in one of those public booths, we might have a few . . . eager volunteers."

She tossed a glance back at the club entrance, probably eyeing a few masked faces moving inside. "And that cute waiter we've all been drooling over? He's working downstairs tonight. I'm sure, he wouldn't mind the invitation."

The other woman on the man's left giggled, nudging him with a grin. "Face it, you know you'd love it. Imagine him joining in-might be the best show we've put on yet."

The man hesitated, but the way he looked back and forth between the two women, anyone could tell the idea was tempting him.

"Fine, but only if he's into it," he finally relented. "And if he's not, we're heading upstairs straight away. No half-hearted shows."

The woman on his right smirked, and kissed him on the lips, "Oh, trust me, he's into it. He couldn't stop staring last time. I bet he's counting on us giving him a shot."

Noah looked away from the trio, his cheeks red . . . and he immediately regretted it.

Because just a few cars ahead of him, a woman lay sprawled across the gleaming hood of a sleek Aston Martin, wearing nothing but a lace-trimmed purple mask that barely hid her face. Her dress-or at least the pieces of it-were scattered carelessly across the asphalt.

She arched her back, moaning with raw need, wrapping her bare legs around her partner's waist-a tall, muscular man with dark hair.

She pulled him down by tugging at the collars of his unbuttoned shirt, gasping, "Mike . . . fuck me. Please."

The man-Mike, with a maroon mask on-had his pants and boxer briefs pooled around his ankles and his mouth was moving over her chest, nipping and grazing at her hardened nipples.

Then he held up her hips in a firm grip and pushed inside her, making her groan and writhe beneath him.

"Fuck! More!" Her fingers dug into his hair and clawed at his back, urging him closer, deeper.

The heavy, rhythmic slap of skin on skin filled the air, louder than the muffled club music, punctuated by their cries and groans.

Holy shit!

It was so raw, so visceral . . . Noah felt his cheeks heat up.

And as he swept his gaze over the rest of the lot, he realized that every corner of this place was practically pulsing with the kind of reckless freedom that Silken Delights promised-a world that, for Noah, felt as foreign as ever.

Noah shifted his weight-feeling a sense of unease and out of place-trying to block out the sounds and sights that pressed in on him from all sides.

This isn't my world, Noah thought as his grip around the strap of the satchel tightened, the weight of the old wooden box and the pendant inside pressing against his side. But I need to see Z. And this is the only place to find him.

______________________________________________________________________________

*Silken Delights - It's just an exclusive sex/BDSM club located at the outskirts of the city Noah lives in. It may or may not have some mafia ties.

______________________________________________________________________________

A/N:- This story is purely fictional and written for entertainment purposes only. I do not intend to disrespect anyone. So, please don't feel offended. ^^

CHAPTER WORD COUNT - 2660