Episode - 05

Ren was the first to buckle. He tore his gaze away, his heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against his ribs like a trapped bird. He turned toward the door, his steps measured and calm, but his soul was screaming to run.

Alan followed, throwing a polite, "Hi, senior," at Joel to bridge the chasm between them.

Joel didn’t offer a greeting; he offered an ultimatum. His gaze remained a glacial warning. "If you intend to remain as Ren’s manager..."

"I do," Alan interrupted, his spine stiffening. "And I don’t leave my friend to face this cruel world alone."

Joel’s eyes narrowed, a curt, lethal nod of acknowledgment. "My office. Tomorrow. Don't be late."

As Joel carved his way further into the room, the team—drunk on victory and Expensive drinks—swarmed him like a tide.

"Hey! The legend himself!" one yelled, stumbling into Joel’s personal space.

Ren lunged forward, his hands trembling as he tried to shove his teammates back. "Stop and get back!"

But the players were beyond reason. They surged past Ren, circling Joel like hounds around a cold flame. "Three years! Zero losses!" one roared, thrusting a glowing phone screen inches from Joel’s nose. "Since you walked away... nobody has even touched him. You’re the only man alive who ever broke our Captain!"

A microscopic shift flickered in Joel’s expression—a spark in the dark. "That's why I'm his Rival," Joel said, his voice a low, vibrating hum. "Because I am the only one who knows how to break him."

Ren couldn't breathe. The noise, the stench of alcohol, and Joel’s suffocating gravity were crushing him. He abandoned the fray and headed straight for the bar, downing a shot that burned all the way down, desperate to numb the static in his brain.

Kishore, perched nearby, watched the carnage with the sharp eyes of a scavenger. He wasn't foolish enough to look Joel Vance in the eye—that was a career-ending eclipse—but he tracked the man’s shadow through his peripheral vision.

"Captain," Kishore purred, sliding onto the stool next to Ren. "You look like you're vibrating. Want to dance it off?"

Ren smirked, the liquor blurring the edges of his fear. "Try to keep up, Kishore."

They moved to the center of the floor. Kishore was a master of the subtle provocation. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Ren’s ear, ensuring every touch was choreographed for the man watching from the gloom. He never looked at Joel, but he felt the weight of the man's stare like a physical pressure on his back.

"You're wound so tight, Captain," Kishore whispered, his hand sliding dangerously low on Ren's waist. "Let go. I've got you."

Ren let out a soft, airy laugh, tilting his head back to expose the line of his throat. "It’s been a long day, Kishore. Just make me forget."

From his seat, Joel watched. He saw Kishore’s fingers linger on Ren’s skin. He saw the way Ren leaned into the touch, looking soft, flushed, and—worst of all—available. Likewise, he didn't feel like a competitor; he felt like a king watching a peasant tarnish his crown.

The breaking point wasn't the touch. It was Ren’s giggle—a sound Joel had locked away in his memory like a stolen treasure.

Joel didn't make a scene; he made a move. He stood, and the crowd parted like the Red Sea, an instinctive, primal reaction to a predator reclaiming lost territory. He reached the edge of the floor just as Kishore leaned in to whisper a secret against Ren’s neck.

Joel didn't wait for the music to fade.

He reached out and cinched his hand around Ren’s wrist. His grip was iron, a searing, possessive heat that branded Ren’s skin. With a violent, controlled jerk, he hauled Ren out of Kishore’s space and into his own, slamming him against his chest.

Ren’s laughter died in his throat. He gasped, looking up into eyes that weren't just dark—they were burning with a terrifying, quiet rage.

Joel didn't even acknowledge Kishore’s existence. Kishore was a ghost; Ren was the only thing that was real. Joel leaned down, his voice dropping into a dangerous, guttural low that silenced the room.

"The celebration is over," Joel hissed, his grip tightening until it was a promise of pain. "You're mine to deal with. We’re leaving. Now."

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