Sunlight had faded long ago, giving way to the cool January night as Amias surveyed himself in the mirror. The charcoal beanie sat perfectly on his head, complementing the custom Italian racing shirt that hugged his frame. His Cool Grey Jordans—freshly cleaned for the occasion—completed the look. Not flashy like some of the others would be, but clean, deliberate.
His phone buzzed again—another notification about the track. The numbers were still climbing, far beyond anything he could have imagined 24 hours ago. He forced himself to close the app.
Amias reached under his bed, retrieving a small wooden box hidden behind a loose floorboard. Inside lay the hunting knife, its blade gleaming in the dim light of his bedroom. He didn't want to bring it—hated the weight of it, what it represented—but at times like this it was better to be safe than sorry. He slipped it into his waistband, adjusting his shirt to conceal it perfectly.
His mother wouldn't be home for hours. Night shift at the hospital. Small blessings.
Outside, engine rumbles announced Capari's arrival—not one but two SUVs idling at the curb. The Range Rover he recognized; the second vehicle was more modest, probably belonging to one of Capari's boys. Security in numbers, just as Capari had said.
"North!" Capari called out as Amias approached, the nickname drawing chuckles from Dyno in the passenger seat. "You ready for this or what?"
"As I'll ever be," Amias replied, sliding into the backseat.
The interior smelled of weed and expensive cologne, a haze of smoke hanging in the air. Dyno passed a spliff to Capari, deliberately skipping Amias.
"Don't worry, we know you don't smoke," Dyno said with a knowing smile. "Got something else for you though."
He passed back a plastic cup filled with a golden liquid that smelled faintly of peach.
"What's this?" Amias asked, taking a cautious sniff.
"Something light," Capari answered, pulling away from the curb. "Hennessy with some peach thing the girls like. Won't mess you up too bad."
Amias took a small sip, letting the sweetness mask the burn. Enough to ease the tension in his shoulders, not enough to dull his senses.
"You strapped?" Dyno asked casually, eyes meeting Amias' in the rearview mirror.
Amias nodded once. "Got the rams on me."
"Good boy," Capari said approvingly. "Probably won't need it, but..."
"Better to have it," Amias finished for him.
The SUVs cruised through London's streets, the city lights blurring past the windows. In the other vehicle, Amias could make out the silhouettes of three more guys from the estate—Jameel, Marcus, and someone else he couldn't quite identify.
"Mad, innit?" Capari said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "My little cousin, the rapper. Charting and everything."
"You're really doing it, North," Dyno added, the nickname sticking now. "Fastest I've ever seen someone blow up."
Amias shrugged, acting nonchalant but the praise made him secretly pleased. "Just got lucky with that Adin Ross clip."
"Nah," Capari shook his head firmly. "Luck's got nothing to do with it. You got talent, fam. Real talent."
The drive continued with Capari recounting stories from their childhood, embellishing details to make Dyno laugh. The mood lightened, the tension of what might await them temporarily forgotten.
"That's it there," Capari announced as they turned onto a tree-lined street in a surprisingly upscale neighborhood. "Jaden's yard."
The house stood out even among its affluent neighbors—a modern two-story with large windows glowing with colored lights. Music thumped from within, the bass audible even from the street. Cars lined both sides of the road, from beaten-up hatchbacks to gleaming sports cars.
Capari drove past once, then twice, eyes scanning the surroundings.
"What do you think?" Amias asked, sensing his cousin's hesitation.
"Too many unknown faces," Capari muttered. "But Jordan and Tyler are already inside."
He parked a little distance away, the second SUV pulling up behind them. The group assembled on the sidewalk, unconsciously forming a protective formation with Amias at the center.
"We move as a unit," Capari instructed. "Any sign of trouble, we bounce. No questions."
Amias nodded, acutely aware of the knife pressing against his lower back as they approached the house. The music grew louder—Drake's What's Next blasting through expensive speakers. The front door stood open, revealing glimpses of bodies moving in the hallway.
"Let me check it out first," Jameel offered, stepping ahead. He disappeared inside for a minute that stretched like an hour before reappearing with a slight nod. "All good. Jordan and Tyler are in the back garden."
They entered as a group, immediately assaulted by the sensory overload of a house party in full swing. The air was thick with the mingled scents of alcohol, perfume, weed, and sweat. Bodies pressed against each other in the hallway and living room, dancing, talking, drinking from red cups. A game of beer pong was underway in what should have been a dining room, cheers erupting as someone landed a perfect shot.
Amias scanned the crowd, recognizing faces from school mixed with strangers. In the corner, a girl balanced on the arm of a sofa, performing a slow wine to appreciative shouts. Two guys huddled by a speaker, arguing over the playlist. A couple kissed against a wall, oblivious to everything around them.
"I'll find Jordan," Amias told Capari, who nodded but kept close as they navigated through the crowd.
They found Jordan in the back garden, perched on a garden chair with a drink in hand, deep in conversation with a girl Amias didn't recognize.
"Ami!" Jordan called out, face lighting up. "You actually came!"
"Said I would, didn't I?" Amias replied, accepting Jordan's complicated handshake.
"Man's a celebrity now," Jordan announced to anyone listening. "Too big for us small-timers."
Amias rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
"Nah, for real though," Jordan continued, lowering his voice. "Heard your track's blowing up. That's mad, fam."
Before Amias could respond, he felt hands covering his eyes from behind.
"Guess who?" a voice whispered in his ear.
The scent was unmistakable—vanilla and something fruity. Temi.
"Let me think," Amias played along, his pulse quickening despite himself. "Kysha?"
The hands dropped, and Temi appeared in front of him, mock outrage on her face. "Rude!"
She looked stunning—hair freshly done in long braids, wearing a crop top that revealed just enough skin to draw eyes without being obvious. Her jeans hugged curves that Amias remembered all too well from the studio balcony.
"Congratulations," she said, her smile genuine. "Heard about the chart entry. That's actually mad."
"Thanks," Amias replied, fighting to keep his tone neutral. "Still processing it myself."
"And that Adin Ross thing?" she continued, stepping closer. "Everyone's talking about it."
Capari, sensing the direction of their conversation, gave Amias a knowing look before drifting away to join Dyno by the makeshift bar.
"It's too crowded here," Temi said, taking Amias's hand. "Come on, I know somewhere quieter."
Against his better judgment, Amias allowed her to lead him back inside, through the dancing bodies and into the living room where a card game was in progress. The room was marginally less packed, with people sprawled across sofas and on cushions on the floor. Someone had set up a shisha pipe in the corner, flavored smoke curling toward the ceiling.
Temi found a spot on a loveseat, patting the space beside her. Amias sat, conscious of her thigh pressing against his.
"So," she said, leaning close to be heard over the music, "how does it feel to be famous?"
"I'm not famous," Amias laughed. "One song doesn't make you a star."
"Not yet," she agreed. "But soon. Everyone can see it."
A guy approached with a tray of shots, offering them to the pair.
"He doesn't drink," Temi said automatically, waving him away.
Amias raised an eyebrow. "I drink sometimes. Just not from strangers."
"Oh," Temi looked surprised. "Didn't know that."
The card game nearby erupted in shouts as someone won a hand. Kysha, who Amias hadn't noticed until now, stood up from the group and approached.
"Amias," she said, sliding onto the arm beside him. "Wasn't expecting to see you here."
Temi's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "Well as you know, I invited him personally."
"Did you?" Kysha's eyes sparkled with amusement. "That's nice of you."
The conversation shifted into school gossip and music, with Kysha gradually moving closer until she was practically leaning against Amias' shoulder. More people joined their circle, drawn by the chance to talk to the guy who'd suddenly found himself with a charting single.
From across the room, Amias noticed the house owner—Jaden, watching their group, his expression darkening each time laughter erupted. The gold chain around his neck caught the light as he adjusted it self-consciously.
"Hear your track's doing numbers," Jaden called out suddenly, loud enough to cut through several conversations. "Must be nice having famous connections."
Amias looked at him directly for the first time. "It helps," he acknowledged simply, refusing to engage with the obvious bait.
"No fancy jewelry though?" Jaden continued, fingering his own chain pointedly. He flashed his wrist, the Rolex—obviously fake to Amias' eye—gleaming. "When I blow up, first thing I'm doing is icing out."
Amias simply nodded and turned back to Temi, effectively dismissing him. He could feel Jaden's glare boring into the back of his head but chose to ignore it.
After a while, the combination of heat, noise, and too many bodies began to make Amias feel claustrophobic. "Need the bathroom," he muttered to Temi, standing up.
She pointed down the hallway. "First door on the left."
Amias navigated through the crowd, nodding to people who recognized him. The music seemed to grow louder as he moved, the bass thumping in his chest like a second heartbeat. Someone called his name, but the voice was lost in the cacophony of sounds—laughter, shouting, glasses clinking, a girl's high-pitched squeal as someone lifted her off the ground.
The world around him seemed to shift into hyperawareness. Details jumped out with startling clarity—a lipstick stain on a glass, a shoe print on the wallpaper, the flicker of the lights as the house's electrical system struggled with the demands of the party. He could smell different colognes as he passed, could distinguish individual conversations from the general roar.
Someone bumped into him hard, spilling beer on his shoe. Amias froze, staring at the guy until he muttered an apology and moved away.
"Ami!" A voice called—Jordan maybe?—but Amias continued walking, drawn forward by some instinct he couldn't name.
He passed the bathroom, turning instead toward a side door that led to a small courtyard area. The night air hit him like a splash of cold water, clearing his head momentarily. The space was less crowded, just a few smokers huddled around a garden table.
That's when he saw him.
Standing by the gate, partially concealed by shadows, a figure watched the house. Even in the dim light, Amias recognized him instantly—Kenzo, one of MGZ's closest boys. His features caught in the light as he turned his head.
Their eyes met across the yard, and time seemed to slow. Kenzo's hand moved to his waistband, the glint of metal appearing between his fingers. A knife.
The smokers, engrossed in their conversation, hadn't noticed. The music from inside muffled any sound. They were effectively alone.
Kenzo moved with surprising speed for his size, crossing the distance in seconds, blade extended. Amias' body tensed, preparing to move, but he knew he'd be too late. The knife was already slicing through the air toward him when—
A hand shot out, gripping Kenzo's forearm with such force that the larger man let out an involuntary gasp. The blade froze mid-strike, trembling just inches from Amias' chest.
Capari sat in a garden chair directly beside Amias, positioned so casually it seemed impossible he had moved at all. His grip on Kenzo's arm was like iron, his body still reclined in the seat, only his extended arm revealing his intervention. He hadn't even bothered to look up until this moment, when he slowly raised his eyes to meet Kenzo's stunned gaze.
"Kenzo," Capari said, his voice dangerously soft. "Never thought I'd see you here."