Jordan knew Askai better than anyone. They were brothers, and Vance's words were nothing but a calculated, arrogant attempt at control. He had never seen such a possessive jerk in his whole life. He could have left even Valez behind to lick the dust in his wake.

Askai slammed the food tray onto the table with a crash, finally snapping. He turned toward Vance, his own glare meeting the East End scion's head-on. King of the hell or not, Vance had no right to raise one in Askai's private life.

"What. In. The. HELL is wrong with you?! You have no fucking right to waltz in here and start messing with my personal life!" Askai's voice was low, furious, trembling with contained rage.

Vance did not back off. He simply returned Askai's glare, his powerful frame utterly still. Anyone else in the room might have believed Askai was caught cheating on a lover. Jordan, however, knew better. Askai wouldn't commit to his own shadow, let alone some rich jerk, no matter how expensively dressed.

"I will decide what my rights are, Askai, and you better not raise your voice again. Or there will be hell to pay." He stood, towering over Askai, his glare almost wanting to drill a hole in his forehead, hoping to see what was going on in there.

Vance was angry and he did not know why. Askai had been doing nothing but dancing to his tune lately. They were not dating and even if they were, having your friend over- was that such a huge thing?

Vance quietly settled down in the bed again, refusing to leave until he himself wished so. But he seemed more contained than before. Maybe Askai's words were able to breach his wall of mistrust after all, Jordan thought.

Definitely an East End Elite, assuming the worst in anyone but one of their own. 

Jordan concluded, chewing slowly, his gaze narrowed in primal recognition. Both us brothers were doomed to attract the wrong kind of attention. Jordan had fallen in love with a man, an image of him, honestly. He had been seeking love, care and attention where only manipulation and obsession thrived. He made a mistake whose price he sometimes believed he would pay for the rest of his life.

 He only hoped Askai would have the better sense to escape such a fate.

Askai grabbed the tray and set it between them, deliberately refusing to look at either man.

"Dinner's ready. Jordan, be careful with your shoulder." Askai called out of habit, handing him utensils, arranging the pitiful soup and noodles and protein bars. He felt so ridiculous serving the meager meal, which until a moment ago, had seemed perfectly fine. Another thing that soured his mood that night.

Under Vance's aristocratic scrutiny, the meal felt utterly shameful. The bastard could have warned him to save the embarrassment. Askai could feel the heat crawling up his face, but he kept his head down. His hands worked faster than his thoughts, trying to outrun the storm building in the room.

Vance watched it all with an unsettling quiet, an observer studying an exotic ritual.

Finally, he picked up a bowl, as if it was the most natural thing to do. 

"You always do this much for your friends, Askai?"

At least he wasn't referring to Jordan as his boyfriend anymore. 

"We all do," Askai muttered.

"Never did that for me."

Askai looked up sharply, utterly amazed by the sheer, breathtaking audacity of the statement. But knowing Vance, he played along, speaking through gritted teeth.

"You've never needed help."

"I could fake a limp." 

Maybe it was his attempt at some sort of apology. But Apology and East end, they don't go together in the same breath.

"Then fake some humility while you're at it." Askai countered, courting his own death.

That shut Vance up for a second, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his eyes at Askai's crude remark. Jordan, still chewing, gave Askai a sidelong, warning look, hoping to distract him from any dark musings that might lead to a catastrophic confrontation.

God knew Askai's unreliable temper was part of the reason they were in this mess today.

But Askai had no such intention. He was already regretting his harsh tone.

"Is he always this… charming?" Jordan asked, attempting to lighten the tone of the conversation.

Askai bit back a groan. "Please don't start."

Vance leaned back, the smile back, predatory and cool. "So, Jordan. You from around here?"

Jordan smirked, unruffled. "You first."

Vance didn't miss a beat. "East End. But you already guessed as much. Your turn."

"Wherever Askai is," Jordan replied, the casualness of his tone a deliberate challenge. He didn't know how much Askai had shared with this rich jerk, but he seemed to be getting some perverse pleasure out of ruffling his feathers.

Askai nearly choked on his soup. 

Vance's eyes sharpened, a predator sensing a weakness. "Cute."

Jordan raised an eyebrow, a flicker of danger in his eyes. "You think so?"

Askai slammed down his spoon, the metal clatter echoing too loudly. "Okay. I'm going to use the bathroom. You two—don't burn the room down."

He turned before they could say more, but as he stepped into the narrow, suffocating safety of the bathroom, he heard Vance murmur just loud enough for Jordan to catch the calculated, probing insinuation:

"So… how long have you known Askai? You seem tight with him. Tell me about his past."

Askai stopped mid-step, his hand freezing on the doorknob.

Jordan didn't answer immediately. Askai knew he wouldn't. He was the saner one among the two of them.

Vance chuckled softly, a sound that chilled Askai to the bone.

And Askai, his heart hammering like a trapped bird, closed the door without a word—unsure if he wanted to punch the flimsy wall or sink to the floor in defeat.

He'd been afraid of trouble, of getting caught, of losing his shot at the future.

He hadn't known he'd also have to worry about this.

About the people who knew the real him... and the ones who wanted to claim the idea of him.

And what happened when those dangerous worlds collided.