Clayton had a smile on his face, phone sex with Alice went smoothly. He enjoyed hearing her moan, saying his name.

He imagined her legs tensing and it wasn't her own fingers but his cock inside of her as he stepped out of the shower, Clayton grabbed a towel and dried off quickly. He slipped into his best pair of jeans, dark and comfortably worn, pairing them with a crisp navy shirt. Finally, he armed himself—a small Colt revolver, loaded with six bullets, the safety firmly off. As a final touch, he threw on his jacket, adjusting the collar before heading out.

In the living room, Samuel stood leaning against the wall, exuding his usual confidence. He looked sharp in designer jeans and a leather jacket, his hair freshly trimmed and styled shorter than usual. Clayton couldn't help but notice how Samuel had been mimicking his look lately. It might have been flattering if it weren't so blatant. Still, he let it slide—they were best friends, after all.

"What's the game plan here?" Samuel asked without looking up, his tone casual.

Clayton straightened his jacket. "We're heading to the Empress. Ask around, keep things low-key. And, Sam, try to stay out of trouble."

Samuel turned toward Clayton with an exaggerated look of disgust, his eyebrows raised. "Do you ever give me any credit?"

Clayton sighed, crossing his arms. "I'm serious. Ruth's arriving soon. I don't need trouble on her doorstep, especially not with Philip closing in. You know how she feels about your... habits. Let's not relive Thailand. Or Cairo. I still have the scar to prove it—five stitches, remember? All because you used me as a human shield when she came after you."

Samuel's smirk faltered for just a second, and Clayton knew he'd hit the mark. Hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, Samuel shifted his weight against the wall.

"Alright, alright. Best behavior," Samuel muttered, his voice tinged with reluctant sarcasm.

Clayton stifled a laugh, knowing full well how much effort "best behavior" would require from his friend. Instead, he busied himself with the coffeemaker, ensuring it was brewing a fresh pot before settling onto the well-worn brown couch with his laptop. The night might take them to the Empress, but Philip's trail wouldn't wait. With a few keystrokes, Clayton resumed his search, determined to get ahead of the son of a bitch.

***

By eleven o'clock, they had arrived at the Empress. The streets were cloaked in darkness, the dim glow of the occasional streetlight casting fleeting halos behind them as Clayton eased the car to a stop. The earlier hours had been spent arranging the new 45-inch TV in the living room—Ruth's welcome gift.

The Empress wasn't a place you stumbled upon. It was a clandestine haven, an exclusive underground club, hidden from prying eyes unless you knew exactly where to look. Its reputation preceded it—elite and enigmatic, the kind of place that could offer answers or bring trouble.

Clayton parked by the back entrance, his nerves betraying him. Anxiety clawed its way through his usual composure, setting his jaw tighter than usual. He stepped out and ensured the back door was propped open, sliding a concrete slab into place for added security. It was a small measure of control, but tonight felt anything but predictable.

***

Couples were close together, experimenting, as if they were teenagers, while Clayton and Samuel walked in together.

"Maybe we won't bring Allie here. This would just freak her out," Clayton quietly said to Sam, who by the way he was looking around at the females, was thinking with his cock and not his head.

A lost cause, his subconscious said, shaking his head

They were side-eyed by a few of the members as a waitress led them to a leather booth, Sam quickly placing an order of four beers for the two of them.

It wasn't even a few moments when Helena appeared. Her long legs were the first thing in Clayton's line of eyesight.

She glided over to him. Her ink black dress clung to her body in all the right places as her hips swayed gently to the music. Her long, chestnut brown hair a waterfall of playful curls. His mind was racing as she reach towards his face, her freshly manicured nails brushed his cheek.

"Clay. Amor. I've missed you," she purred at him.

He immediately thought back them fucking back on the day. The positions, her tightness.

Shit! No, his inner most desires thrashed against the iron bars.

Helena curled into his lap as he awkwardly moved his beer up to his mouth.

His free hand was on her back. He could smell the cigarette on her breath. He didn't realize how thirsty he was until he realized that he had almost drank the whole thing. She titled her head at him, that smirk forming as he placed his beer down.

"What do you want Leni?" Clayton said, a little loudly as the music played around them.

Samuel was watching them carefully as he lounged on the side of the leather booth, he had moved on to tequila shots.

It made Clayton uncomfortable being watched.

"Oh. Clayton. It's been over a year. I haven't heard from you. No texts or calls. Nothing," Helena pouted with the dark, a twinkle in her eyes, her hand stroking his forearm, "I've miss you in my bed. Remember when we went to Valparaíso together? Oh, I think about that week often Papai," she whispered in his ear, her teeth teasing his earlobe.

Papai? His subconscious sneered.

He was being careful not to get hard. He does remember that week and it almost killed him.

Her pussy was like crack his thoughts droned. That week was mostly just sex, drugs and drinking, then more sex with a little sleep thrown in between.

Clayton moved his thoughts to study her lips.

That glossy shade of pink she wore was shimming in the dim lights of the Empress.

He suddenly thought about those lips around his cock. Helena on her knees, taking him deeper.

No!

"Well Leni. I've been busy. I'm engaged now actually. Things have change. I'm sorry. We can't."

Her eyes narrowed. Clayton could see she was calculating her next move.

"Oh well, Congratulations." Helena whispered.

Her eyes pricked up, her pulse quicken.

Clayton struggled to hear her, but her facial expression screamed in anguish.

She moved to get off him and stood up without a thought, he shuffled uncomfortably as Clayton reached up to hug her goodbye.

She kissed his cheek and lingered a little too long for his comfort.

"Don't forget about me. I'd love an invitation to your wedding. Maybe a goodbye fuck? I'm sure your little fiancée wouldn't know. Hell, I'll give you a fair rate for old times sake, my big, sweet Gringo," she whispered in his ear again, her hot breath purring as she stroked his crotch area.

OH MY GOD! Clayton thoughts were screaming.

Clayton just stared, ignoring everything as she walked away from the table and into the dancing crowd. It wasn't even two seconds after Clayton turned his attention back onto his second beer when Sam moved to his side.

"I swear you were going to fuck her on this sofa. Weren't you guys a thing?" Sam was in his ear.

He was drunk, slurring every word.

"Once," Clayton said plainly, trying not to dig up that past.

"Are you sure Alice is the right girl for you?"

Be careful....his subconscious hissed,

Clayton could tell Sam said that with hesitation.
His eyes narrowed as he stood up, looking down at a meek Sam, who quickly jumped up in defense.

The two men were squaring up. Clayton didn't care if you were a man or a woman, his best friend or a whore. If you challenged him, you better be prepared to back yourself.

"Clayton. Relax," Sam pleaded.

Rage simmered beneath his skin, threatening to boil over. Clayton's vision blurred, tinted with shades of red as he fought the overwhelming urge to shut Sam up with a single, decisive blow. Sam, undeterred, continued his tirade "She's a real sweetheart. Gorgeous, even. I get it—you're head over heels now that you popped her cherry. Lovebirds, how sweet." His nervous smirk twisted into something sharper. "But Clay, you're forgetting the basics. She's Booth's daughter—the man we're hunting. What happens when Booth is locked up, or better yet, dead? This is business, remember? Operation ToyBox wasn't about romance. She was just part of the deal. Once it's done, Claudia moves us on to the next gig, like always."

Suddenly his phone rang before he could reply.

Alice's name and their picture flashed across the screen. He let it ring.

"Alice is it for me. The one, my soulmate. I love her deeply. You need to accept that Sam," Clayton murmured as the music drowned his voice, but not looking away from Sam, not even once.

"She's your pet. A woke orphan with daddy issues! You will get bored of her Clay,"

He cut deep.

"Careful Samuel." Clayton warned as Sam started losing more control of his mouth.

"She's too innocent for you, Clay. Seriously—fuck her if you must, but don't put a ring on it. What's next, a coloring book for her birthday? Prom tickets? Going to her graduation? Think, man!" Sam's voice wavered, sharp with frustration as he pressed on, hands gesturing wildly. "She's a kid playing dress-up, and you're... well, you're you. A year from now, she'll be begging for a baby. Can you picture that? You, changing diapers, shopping for a minivan, teaching little league? Mortgage payments and PTA meetings?" He let out a harsh laugh, almost choking on it. "You're not a family man, Clay. You're not built for that life. So don't try to be."

She is different, Clayton's thoughts were screaming. He hated being pulled, left and right. He hated choosing between his fiancée and best friend!

"Enough." Clayton warned.

"Alice has you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she? Clayton Miller whipped by young pussy." Samuel drawled, his words slurred.

Clayton sighed, meeting Samuel's gaze. "Some of us grow up, Samuel. Maybe it's time you tried it."

The words came out sharper than intended. Samuel's smirk faltered, replaced by something darker, more wounded. For a moment, Clayton saw a flash of the best friend he used to know—before the drinking, the drugs, before the endless parade of women had hollowed him out.

"At least I know who I am," Samuel shot back. "You're playing house with Alison while there is a real possibility that Martha is carrying your kid. Real grown up, Clayton."

The mention of Martha landed like a physical blow. Clayton's fingers curled into fists at his sides, but he kept his voice level. "Remind me again? Where are your daughters? Sophie and Harper? You haven't seen them in three years, not even a birthday card. Oh wait, don't you have a third on the way with that woman back in France? Yes, Eloise is her name. Don't even get me started on the child support owing to two girls' mother. Nora? Is it? or Naomi? Your children would be proud eventually learning their own daddy is running around fucking anything that moves, wondering every time if he has the clap or not. You should not judge me Samuel about my relationships until you sort your own life out," Clayton said coldly, seeing red despite his similar circumstances."

Clayton chose to not let Sam respond, calling Alice back. She answered it on the third ring as he moved through the crowd to head outside, somewhere quiet.

"Hi, Miss Allie," he said, the hot air hitting him hard as he leaned against the brick wall of the Empress.

"How is Brazil? I bet it's warm," she said, letting out a breath.

There was a couple of minutes between them. Clayton's attention was suddenly on the two black SUV's that turned up outside. Nervousness filled the air as people moved out of the way when the local drug gang turned up in support. Vanessa, with her long, midnight black dead straight hair, stepped out with Helena to greet her. Clayton noticed a third shadow with them, but he was to far around the corner to get a confirmed ID on them.

Helena suddenly looked over towards him while three armed men, dressed in combat gear walked inside the Empress.

Definitely not military, he thought to himself, feeling confident over his advantage.

He heard the click of loaded guns as the hired guns followed them. He counted four of them.

Fear ran through his veins. Suddenly crowds were screaming and hurrying out of the Empress as shots rang out inside. This gave him some cover as he moved a little closer to the brick wall.

Sam!

"Clayton. What is going on?" Alice said, panic in her voice.

He could sense that her blood pressure raising.

He could hear Sam yelling.

"It's just Vanessa and her crazy friends. This wasn't my idea Allie," Clayton whispered, watching the SUV's as Helena walked towards the entrance and the cars drove off in a haste.

Clayton hung up the phone. Moving quickly. He was worried.

He pulled his gun from his jacket.

He ran with all this strength in this legs through the back door, through the kitchen as bodies lay silent on the black and white floor.

A over drugged hire charged towards him with a knife. All Clayton could see of him was his gold, paisley shirt. He was young, not skilled and Clayton had a clean shot, easily overpowering him with a sharp elbow to the face, using a waiter's drink tray as a shield before he nailed the so called man to the wall with the same knife.

The guy's bloody scream rang Clayton's ears as he turned back towards him, completely unfazed, and pulled the trigger of his gun, quickly silencing him as he went limp.

Within seconds, Clayton was moving on. He didn't have time to waste, he had to get to Sam.

***

It was a war zone of complete chaos when Clayton finally reached the dance floor. He had killed another hire on his way over, gaining a few cuts as blood and dirt covered his knuckles.

Clayton could feel blood trickle down his neck from the nape of his hairline.

Everything in his body was on fire. Clayton right now could feel his age.

He wasn't eighteen anymore....

***

Glass was everywhere, bodies scattered was the first thing Clayton saw as he stood in the middle of the room. The chandelier smashed to the left of him. Lights hanging by a thread. Music skipping with the strain of barely any power.

Suddenly Helena slashed his forearm out of no where. Clayton reacted the best way he could. Gripping his arm, holding it tight as he prepared for Helena's next move, throwing a punch towards her way as she dodged it quickly. He lost his footing, falling down as Helena slapped him.

His cheek stung as he quickly realized that he was pinned, out numbered, no bullets.

Clayton was prepared for death, his mind racing. He glanced towards Sam. He was pinned as well, staring up at a barrel of a gun.

ALICE! his thoughts pleaded. The last thing that flooded his mind.

A shot rang out. Samuel's eyes were closed.

Clayton for a second thought that he was dead. His heart felt like it stopped but he realized that Daniel was behind him. Holding a long hunting rifle, pointing towards Sam's captive.

The guard flinched and fell backwards as he opened his eyes in disbelief.

Helena stood back, eyes filled with confusion.

She panicked, yelling "He made me! Shit!" before she turned on her heels and ran.

Pain flooded Clayton's arm as he watched Helena flee in a red haze.

What the fuck? Clayton thought to himself. Confusion all over his face.

The other members silently retreated as Daniel moved closer. The odds were in our favor for the moment as Clayton tried to pick up a long shard of glass, ready for another fight, ignoring the glass slicing into his palm.

Looking back towards Daniel, Ruth's red hair greeted him before her face did as she looked up at him.

He was grateful for his cousin.

She lead him to a barstool as he dropped the piece of glass. She was putting pressure on his arm.

He hadn't realized it was going numb.

"Ruth. Daniel. You're both early. Thank you,"Clayton muttered, feeling lightheaded as he stood up.

The glass cracking under his footsteps.

Daniel moving his gun to his left side. He greeted Sam with a fist bump, everyone had a silence about them.

A relieved and grateful silence as Clayton leaned on Ruth for support, her whole body barely holding him up.

"We should leave. Cops will be here soon. This place is a mess," Sam finally piped up, holding his hand to the gaping, blooded wound above his eyebrow.

Clayton actually agreed with him as they made their way to the Jeep, still parked outside, near the back entrance.

Clayton and Samuel gingerly climbed in with Ruth quickly taking over the driving, Daniel riding beside her. She quickly bought the car to life as they made their way home.

***

They moved cautiously as they stepped into the house, Samuel unlocking the door while Daniel stayed close behind, scanning for any sign of danger. Only after a moment's hesitation, when they were sure it was safe, did they relax. Clayton shrugged off his jacket, the tension in his shoulders still lingering, as Ruth opened her small purse. From it, she retrieved a medical kit, her movements steady and practiced.

Clayton slumped onto the couch beside Samuel, watching Ruth wrap the bandages around Sam's head wound before turning her attention to his forearm.

"Clayton," Samuel called softly, but the words barely registered.

Instead, Clayton's thoughts drifted. Relief washed over him; he was alive. But a deeper unease clawed at him—how much longer could he keep this up? And then, like a flash, a sharper question pierced through his exhaustion.

How the hell did Vanessa and Helena know where he'd be tonight? Who tipped them off?

The thought gnawed at him, but sleep pulled harder. He let his eyes fall closed, surrendering as the adrenaline ebbed and silence settled over the room.