The interior of the massive arena was pitch-black, packed to maximum capacity with thousands of roaring university students, high-society investors, and the elite class of Madrid. Sitting directly in the front-row VIP lounge chairs were Richard and Diana, alongside a heavily flustered Luke and Dedrick, who were still blushing from Miya’s hallway lecture.

Suddenly, a brilliant, piercing beam of magenta light cut through the darkness, illuminating the center of the elevated stage.

Emily Destiano stood behind a glowing digital synthesizer setup. She hit a massive, echoing chord that rattled the subwoofers across the stadium. Spinning out from behind her console, Emily took center stage, opening the song with a flawless, high-octane modern-pop choreography routine. She moved with unbelievable agility, instantly setting the high-energy vibe for the track.

The stage lights flashed into a blinding amber hue as the other student band members stepped into the spotlights, their electric guitars and drums roaring into a heavy, rhythmic modern club beat laced with traditional, rapid acoustic Spanish chords.

The stadium crowd went absolutely wild, screaming Emily’s name. In the front row, Richard, Luke, Dedrick, and Diana all watched intently, their Alpha senses completely focused.

The music swelled, building up an intense, thumping rhythm, climbing higher and higher toward the peak pitch of the introduction. The drum roll accelerated into a frantic crescendo. The heavy smoke machines burst, filling the stage with a thick white haze.

The stadium spotlights flashed into an immaculate, blinding white glow, focusing directly on the elevated center platform. Velvet Trigger was revealed as the smoke cleared.

The entire audience suffered a collective gasp. Felix looked like an ethereal visual deity under the stadium lights. His silky black hair, styled in that breathtaking half-up, half-down look, flowed beautifully around his chiseled face as he moved. The high-fashion cream silk shirt shifted elegantly against his lean, muscular frame, completely exposing his pale collarbone and highlighting the diamond studs in his left ear. He stepped forward with absolute, dazzling perfection, his rosy-pink eyes locked onto the massive crowd.

Felix dropped his microphone down and began to rap. The lyrics flew from his plush lips with blinding speed, sharp rhythm, and an effortless, hypnotic cadence that completely paralysed the arena. He glided across the stage, executing a sharp, dangerous choreography routine that matched Emily’s pacing beat-for-beat. He isn't just performing; he was dominating the entire stadium.

The band hit the chorus, their voices blending perfectly as they sang a gorgeous, high-energy anthem about love in Spain—the heavy acoustic guitars weaving a passionate, modern-pop melody that makes the thousands of fans sway in unison.

Down in the VIP row, the four Destiano siblings were completely, utterly pulverized. Richard’s jaw was slightly slack, his cheeks turning a violent shade of red as he watched his "Pretty Baker Boy" dominate the stage like a king. Luke’s eyes were wide with professional shock, his inner choreographer completely whipped by Felix's flawless rhythm. Dedrick was staring with wide, lovesick eyes, completely forgetting his football metrics. And Diana was clutching her chest, her eyes watery with pride as she watched her visual muse dazzle the entire country.

Felix finished his verse, flashing a breathtaking, heart-melting angelic grin toward the audience, his half-up hair catching the flashing camera lights of the press—entirely oblivious to the fact that his spectacular performance just turned all four billionaire siblings into his ultimate, lifetime fanboys!

While Felix was completely dazzling the thousands of screaming fans up on the main stage, the scene violently cut away to the dark, chilling underbelly of the arena. The heavy, muffled thumping of the bass from "Corazón de Fuego" vibrated directly through the thick concrete walls.

Miya moved through the pitch-black corridor like a shadow. Her stunning, skin-tight crimson designer dress caught the faint crimson glow of the emergency exit signs as she glided past a row of massive electrical generators. She had her high-tech tactical smartphone unholstered, the screen flashing with a live radar map tracking synthetic chemical markers.

The tracking grid on her screen violently blinked bright green.

"Velvet, do you copy? Your verse is done. I’ve successfully mapped the signal," Miya whispered sharply into her wireless transmitter, her eyes narrowing. "The 'Elysium-9' manufacturing team is setting up their final distribution transport right underneath the stage."

Through the earpiece, the loud, passionate roars of the audience up on the stage bled through the line, followed by Felix’s heavy, post-performance breathing. “Copy that, bestie! I just finished my final outro run and waved at the screaming boyband front row. I’m heading to the backstage stairs right now. Don't let them move the cargo without me!”

Miya pressed her back firmly against the cold metal door of the primary chemical vault. She peered through the tiny reinforced glass slot. Inside the vast room, surrounded by rows of heavy industrial containers, were three heavily armed cartel technicians wearing tactical gas masks and dark hazard suits. They were frantically loading glowing blue vials of the toxic, scent-paralyzing formula into rolling metal crates.

"They aren't going anywhere," Miya muttered, a cold, lethal assassin smirk breaking across her lips. "The syndicate thought they could launch a mass biological strike under our noses. Let's show them what happens when you disturb our high-society schedule."

She slipped a silencer attachment onto her tactical handgun, her heels clicking softly on the concrete as she prepared to completely breach the perimeter.

The heavy, rhythmic bass from Emily’s band continued to vibrate through the concrete roof as the final chorus of "Corazón de Fuego" played out above. Down in the dim, crimson-lit vault, the three cartel technicians were frantically latching the final metal crate of glowing blue 'Elysium-9' vials.

BANG!

The heavy steel security door flew off its hinges, crashing violently onto the floor. Miya strode into the room, her skin-tight crimson designer dress swirling spectacularly around her legs. She didn't even blink as the three masked thugs instantly spun around and hoisted their automatic weapons.

"Gentlemen. Your shift is officially over," Miya smirked coldly, her eyes flashing with lethal Alpha dominance.

Before they could even pull their triggers, Miya slid low across the slick concrete floor, her long legs sweeping the first technician off his feet with a bone-shattering CRACK. She sprang upward, her silenced handgun firing two precise, rapid shots that instantly disabled the second thug’s weapon hands.

The final, largest masked cartel operative charged at her with a heavy iron pipe. Miya whipped under the swing, but her designer high heels caught on an electrical cable, throwing her off balance. The thug raised the pipe, aiming directly for her head.

ZIP!

From the high stage rigging above the ceiling, a steel zipline wire whistled through the air. Velvet Trigger slid down the wire with blinding speed, his asymmetrical cream silk shirt billowing behind him like wings. He released the cable mid-air, spinning gracefully, his half-up, half-down black hair flying as he delivered a devastating, high-velocity dropkick straight to the giant thug’s chest.

BOOM!

The cartel operative flew backward, smashing into a row of industrial containers and knocking himself out cold. Felix landed flawlessly on his feet, his diamond earrings catching the red emergency lights. He smoothly adjusted his silk lapels, popping a bubblegum bubble with an effortlessly handsome, cute pout.

"Phew! Made it just in time, bestie!" Felix giggled playfully, checking his manicured fingers. "Did you see my landing? Absolute perfection. I didn't even wrinkle the cream silk."

"Nine out of ten, Velvet. You took too long waving at the crowd," Miya said, standing up and smoothing down her crimson dress. "Let’s secure these chemical crates before the backup crew arrives."

Upstairs, the moment the house lights turned on, the four Destiano siblings intensely bolted from their front-row seats. Richard, Luke, and Dedrick were aggressively elbowing each other out of the way, racing down the VIP corridor to get backstage first. Richard was clutching his gold pen to write another check, Luke was checking his hair to look smooth for his "teddy bear," and Dedrick was frantically searching his pockets for a logo contract. Even Diana was power-walking behind them, determined to secure her tragic visual muse for the Fall line.

"Step back, both of you!" Richard hissed at his brothers, his ears burning red. "I am the official primary sponsor of this entire event! Backstage access belongs strictly to executive leadership!"

"Corporate sponsorship doesn't give you rhythm, Richard," Luke shoved Richard's shoulder aside with a dark Alpha smirk. "He clearly looked at me during the bridge. I am going to evaluate his backstage tempo."

"Keep dreaming, old men!" Dedrick sprinted past them, using his football agility. "I’m the star athlete, I'm faster than both of you combined—"

Suddenly, the heavy double doors to the backstage corridor flew open. Felix darted out, having sprinted up from the basement to grab his gear, his silk shirt slightly ruffed up but still looking drop-dead gorgeous. The three brothers instantly froze, their eyes widening with desperate, lovesick hope as they raised their hands to call his name. "Felix—!"

Before they could take a single step forward, a massive, thunderous roar echoed through the lobby. "KYAAAAAA!!! IT'S THEM!!!"

A stampede of five hundred fanatical university students, screaming fangirls, and hardcore Real Madrid sports fans broke through the main auditorium barriers. They didn't see Felix—they only saw Spain's three absolute number one most eligible bachelors standing out in the open!

"DEDRICK! DEDRICK, SIGN MY FACE!!!" one fan screamed, waving a football jersey.

"LUKE! TEACH ME THE TANGO, LUKE!!!" another sprinted over with a camera.

Within a fraction of a second, a colossal human wall of swooning, chanting, and grabbing fans completely swarmed the three giant Alpha brothers. Richard’s custom light gray cashmere suit was violently pulled by chaotic hands; Luke was trapped in a sea of flashing smartphones; and Dedrick was completely buried under a mountain of screaming sports enthusiasts.

"SECURITY! RETREAT! NOBODY TOUCH THE CASHMERE!!!" Richard screamed in a flustered panic, his tie being yanked.

"My tempo...! Get back! Let me out!" Luke suffocated in the middle of the crowd, his slicked hair being ruined.

Felix stopped near the exit door, tilting his half-up hair look as he looked back at the chaotic, suffocating sea of fans completely burying the three billionaire brothers. He let out a deadpan, comically blunt little giggle, waving a cheerful, sassy peace sign at them.

"Wow. Being a local boyband must be so exhausting. Sucks to be you, giants! Bye!" Felix muttered to himself with a cute pout.

He pushed the emergency exit doors open and completely escaped into the night with Miya, leaving the three ultra-wealthy, globally famous Alphas screaming for help as their own popularity completely blocks them from reaching their dream boy!