A dimly lit underground base, concrete walls humming with machinery, tension thick in the air.
"Boss!"
A man barged into the room, out of breath, his boots slamming against the steel floor.
"Yes?" He didn't lift his head, still going through a folder.
"Logan sent someone down here."
"Who?"
"His guards took the Dylan's son as hostage."
Ross's eyes snapped up. The folder slipped from his hands.
"What? He did that?"
"Yes boss, and he was sent to the field."
Ross stood, chair screeching behind him. "Is Logan seeking death? If he took the Dylan son as hostage, why did he send him here? Is he trying to get us all killed?"
"He said Dylan owes him a lot and he won't send their son back until they release his goods."
He clenched his fists, jaw ticking.
"Bring him here!" he barked.
The guard bowed and disappeared, returning moments later with a struggling figure. He pushed the hooded person onto the cold floor and yanked off the hoodie. A youthful, sharp-featured face blinked up, disoriented.
"Who the hell are you? Why did you take me?" the boy shouted, voice cracking from the sudden shift.
"Hey!" Ross turned to his guard. "What is the boy like?"
"They said he is not into the business yet."
"How old is he?"
"22."
He raised an eyebrow. "Quite young. He can fight?"
"No! He is just a spoilt brat."
"Wow! So stupid at 22 and he will inherit all that wealth. He is the only child right?"
"Yes, only him."
"Damnit! Lucky bastard! He will get to own that generational wealth without doing anything."
"Yes boss."
"Until when do we have to keep him here?"
"Logan said until he gives the order we should keep him on the field."
The boss sighed and paced.
"Clear out all the businesses that Logan does not know about until he leaves."
"Alright boss! What should we do with the boy?"
"Take him to the lodge and put a guard to watch over him."
"Which lodge?"
"The VIP lodge, idiot! The one Logan stays in. He's Dylan's son. If we treat him badly and he reports to his father when he gets back, we'll be the ones in trouble. Nothing will happen to Logan."
"True boss! Who should watch over him?"
"Put Harper there."
"Harper? Why Harper?"
"She needs to prove her loyalty to me."
"Oh true!" The guard nodded, grabbed the boy by the arm, and dragged him outside.
A van bumps along a winding path through the woods. Tall trees blurred past, shadows dancing on the tinted windows. The vehicle stopped before a sleek, glass-walled villa, hidden deep in the forest.
"Where is this place?" the boy asked, stepping out hesitantly.
"This is where you will be living till your father comes for you."
"Okay."
They entered the villa. Maids bowed politely as they stepped in. Their eyes flicked to the boy with curiosity but no questions.
"You have to take care of him and provide for his needs. If anything goes wrong, y'all are dead."
"Yes sir."
"Never knew there was a place like this here."
A familiar voice came from behind, and all eyes turned. Harper walked in, her boots light but her presence sharp like a knife.
"You came so fast."
"I got my first task, so I definitely will!"
"You will watch over this boy here."
"Who is he?"
"You don't have to know! He is someone important, and nothing must go wrong with him. If not, we are both dead meats."
"I understand. I will try my best."
"Who is the boy?"
"She is not a boy…"
"I'm a boy!" Harper cut in smoothly, meeting Quincy's eyes. "My name is Harper, and I will be your bodyguard."
"Oh, nice meeting you!" He grinned and offered a handshake. Harper accepted, but squeezed hard.
"What the hell! That's painful!"
Harper chuckled darkly. "Wow! He can't do nothing?"
"He is a rich kid, Harper."
Harper moved closer, eyeing Quincy up and down. He was tall, broad-shouldered, clean-skinned. Regal without trying.
He looks like he can dominate, but he screams because I squeezed his hand? That's ridiculous!
He looked away, embarrassed. Harper caught a better glimpse of his face. Insanely handsome.
"How old is he?"
"22."
"Wow! He looks way more mature than that. I thought he'd be like 25. Can't believe he can't fight."
"Harper, stop thinking ahead. Just do what you are supposed to do here. Make sure nothing goes wrong. If anything goes wrong, we are both dead!"
"I understand. You can go."
"Cool then! Bye!"
"Bye Tory."
"You remember my name today?"
"I always remember."
"Cool then."
Inside the white-themed bedroom. It was spacious, sterile, and luxurious. Quincy sat on the bed, shoulders slumped. Harper rolled a box across the room, then shoved it toward the maid.
"The boss sent this outfit, so fix them in the wardrobe."
"Yes sir."
As the maid busied herself, Harper turned.
"Do you need anything?"
"I need my phones."
"We don't use phones here."
"Why?"
"This is a secret place. We are separated from the outside world. We don't need a phone for nothing."
"That's slavery."
"We are slaves!" Harper blurted, then stiffened.
"What?"
"Never mind. What else do you need?"
"Nothing else. I just wanna go home. I want to see my mom and dad."
Harper softened for half a second.
"Forget it. I'll tell the maids to prepare something for you now."
"Thanks."
Dining hall. Quincy looked completely at home, despite the circumstances. He smiled as Harper walked past, scowling.
He looks like he's enjoying being held hostage. He doesn't even look angry or anything! Harper thought.
"Here!" He stretched a spoon toward her.
"I'm not eating, thank you."
"I didn't ask you to eat it. Taste it to confirm if there's no poison in it."
"And why should I do that?"
"You're my guard. You need to protect me."
"Doesn't mean I should die with you!"
"Well, you will!"
Harper scoffed, rolled her eyes, and tasted each dish dramatically, then dropped the spoon.
"Satisfied?"
"Not really! But next time taste my food 5 minutes before I come down to eat it. Not every poison kills someone fast enough. Thank you!"
As he dug into his food, Harper glared at him like she wanted to strangle him with the tablecloth.
Just like that, Harper became a bodyguard for Quincy Dylan—even though it barely felt like bodyguard duty. She was convinced she'd been hired as a glorified maid instead. In nearly two months of sticking by his side, not once had she fought anyone to protect him. No one was after him. The boy just woke up, ate, and made sure everyone around him was busy with his endless stream of whims.
Every day came with a new obsession. Today, it was video games. Tomorrow, he'd suddenly want to ride a horse—even though he couldn't even mount one without slipping off.
"Teaching someone how to ride a horse is also more annoying! Damn that rich boy!" Harper hissed under her breath, stomping away from the stables as she wiped sweat off her brow.
She had lost count of how many arguments they'd had. Quincy always had something ridiculous to brag about—his family's lifestyle, the billions they controlled, the luxury he bathed in. And when he wasn't flexing, he was flirting. Teasing the maids, laughing obnoxiously, living life like it was one big joke.
Harper gritted her teeth every time he grinned that smug grin. I wanna break his hands if I can…
Ross's voice echoed in her head: "Report everything he does. We need to curry favor with him."
It made her stomach churn.
"This is so tiring. I wanna return to the field badly…" Harper muttered to herself, dragging a heavy basket of gear across the tiled walkway.
Then came the usual interruption.
"Hey, little boy!"
"I'm not a little boy, the fuck!" Quincy barked, spinning around from where he lounged with a fruit cocktail in hand.
Harper narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"Then you are little! You're still a teenager."
"So?"
"You look too pretty to be a boy. If not for this small body of yours, I'm sure you'd be able to pull so many women. But women love men with big bodies, muscle, and a tall figure."
"That's none of your business. I don't need to pull women for any damn thing."
"Oh, why? Are you gay?"
"Of course I'm not!"
"You can't ask a woman out?"
"Why should I ask a woman out? What the hell?"
"Then what's the problem? Don't worry, buddy. When I get back out there, I'll take you to the club and hotels. So many women out there that you'll like."
"I don't like women."
Harper's eyebrows shot up. "So you like men?"
"Kinda."
"That means you are gay!"
"I'm not gay! Stop saying nonsense!"
"If you're a man and you like men, that means you're gay!"
"I'm a woman, idiot!" Harper wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, her insides flaring with tension. But instead, she forced a dry laugh and muttered, "I like women. I was just teasing you."
Quincy's expression brightened like a switch. "Cool then!"
Before Harper could slip away from the awkwardness, a sharp voice called out from behind.
"Harper!"
She turned abruptly, almost too fast.
"Tory," she said, voice dry.
"The boss called for you."
"Okay," she replied flatly, already stepping forward when Quincy stepped in front of her, brows furrowed.
"Why are you taking him?"
"She has something to do."
"She?"
"Oh—I mean he has something to do."
"When is he coming back?"
"Soon."
"Then who will watch over me?"
"I'll assign a new guard till he comes back."
"No!" Quincy stepped forward, face petulant like a child denied candy. "I don't want anybody else. Just bring him back here on time."
"Alright, I will do that." Tory waved impatiently. "Let's go, Harper."
"Okay."
She followed Tory silently, feeling Quincy's eyes burn into her back. His sudden possessiveness left a weird knot in her stomach.
They drove through the woods in silence, the dense trees blurring past as Harper leaned her head against the window. The moment they arrived at the field, she followed Tory into Ross's dark office.
The man sat like a king in his dimly lit room, cigar smoke curling around his head like a crown.
"Harper darling," he said with a smile that never reached his cold eyes.
"Boss," she replied, standing straight.
"How is it going over there?"
"Nothing much, sir."
"Is there anything suspicious about the boy?"
"None that I know of."
Ross frowned, rubbing his chin. "Is he hiding something? I don't wanna believe that a whole son of Dylan is just a fool that flirts around all day."
"That's all he does, sir."
Ross's gaze narrowed. "Do you think we can control him?"
"What do you mean, sir?"
He leaned forward, tone low. "We need to seize power, Harper, and we need someone powerful to help us."
Harper raised an eyebrow. "If you need someone powerful, I don't think choosing Quincy is a good idea. He's too ignorant and looks like he only listens to what his mom and dad say all day. Currying favors with him might lead you into trouble because he can't even cover himself—talk less of others. Talking to him confidentially might cost you a lot."
Ross grinned. "You are so wise, Harper. You studied him well enough."
"You flatter me, sir," she said, lowering her gaze.
Ross exhaled slowly. "He'll be leaving here in a week, according to the agreement between Logan and the Dylans."
Her heart skipped.
What the hell? she thought, pulse racing.
"Even though they've reached an agreement," Ross continued, "Logan does not want to free the boy at all. He wants to get rid of him."
"What?"
"Yes. I would love to help him, but I don't help powerless people. If he had something I could use, maybe I'd consider it. But he's just a useless son. I can't betray Logan because of him."
"But Boss…"
"No buts, Harper. That's the order. Once you guys set out to take him back, you'll deliver him to his people and get rid of him halfway there. It should be done in a way that won't implicate Logan. He can't fight the Dylans head-on."
Harper's fists clenched. "If he can't fight them, why is he trying to kill their son?"
"The son is his only threat. Once he's gone, the Dylans will be powerless. Their wealth and influence are hidden away. Remove the heir, and Logan becomes the most powerful man here. But he doesn't want the boy dying in his abode. Understand?"
"…Yes, boss."
"You can return to your duty."
"I need to rest for a day, sir. Can I do that?"
"Sure you can. Resume next tomorrow morning and start preparing for his departure."
"Yes, boss."
She turned and walked out quickly, her chest tightening. The moment she stepped outside and breathed in the night air, her knees buckled slightly. She leaned on the wooden beam for balance.
Kill Quincy? Isn't that ridiculous? Just like that? He didn't even do anything wrong…
But her thoughts twisted.
What's my business with that? What if he gets killed—how does it concern me, please?
Still, the ache in her chest throbbed.
Why does it hurt hearing that he'll be getting killed? What should I do?
Her throat tightened. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not gonna cry for an asshole like him. Am I?
Yet, a single tear rolled down her left cheek.
I don't care about him! she told herself as she wiped it away furiously. I'm just worried because he's my first task and he has to get killed that way. But who cares if he gets killed or not?
"Damnit!" she cursed and stormed off, her boots thudding heavily against the earth as anger masked her sorrow.