The ride to Matthew's house was a riot. Aisha and I sang old children's songs like a pair of kindergartners on a sugar high, our voices loud and off-key, but we didn't care. We were still belting out tunes even as Aisha parked in front of Matthew's ridiculous villa, our faces lit up with glee. Honestly, we didn't want to stop.
"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream," Aisha sang through a burst of laughter.
I picked up with a giggle, "If you see a crocodile, don't forget to scream."
"Aaaaahhh!" we both shrieked dramatically.
Aisha slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, but I, being the wilder one, let mine ring out loud and proud. No shame here.
"Again, again!" I yelled.
This time, we sang in unison: "Row, row, row your boat, gently to the shore. If you see a lion there, don't forget to roar!"
"ROAR!" we screamed, trying for fierce but ending up sounding like mice going squeak squeak.
We looked at each other, then collapsed into laughter again. Everything was hilarious for no reason. Gosh, we were hopeless.
After a few moments of cackling, we sighed—at the exact same time, of course.
"Remind me why exactly we're laughing," Aisha asked, raising a brow at me.
I tilted my head thoughtfully. After a dramatic pause, I shrugged. "I honestly have no idea."
"We're both insane, aren't we?" she said, tapping her chin like it was a scientific discovery.
I frowned. "Is that new information? I thought we'd already established that."
With a pout, Aisha turned off the car and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Get your ass out. The others are waiting."
"At least I have one," I muttered, catching the vein throbbing on her forehead as she glared. I tossed my hair in her face like a true diva and stepped out of the car. Not my fault her booty was non-existent—blame her genes.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp air wafting from the trees surrounding Matthew's glossy, white villa. Behind us, my overly dedicated security team carefully parked their vehicles a few meters back, still tailing me like stalkers.
Aisha slammed her door a little too hard—her signature silent tantrum. We pissed each other off at least twelve times a day. Our friendship was... well, unique.
We ignored each other and headed for the house. The front door slid open with a hiss, and Aisha stepped in first, like she was trying to win a competition. Geez. I didn't realize she was that sensitive about her flat-ass situation. If I'd known earlier, I could've used it for premium blackmail.
As a good friend, I decided to start today. Someone had to keep her humble.
Grinning, I stepped in after her, eyes scanning the familiar sitting room. No matter how many times I saw it, Matthew's house always amazed me. The walls shifted colors every few seconds, the couches rotated like a carousel, and everything screamed chaotic genius. Bizarre, yes—but charming in a twisted kind of way.
But the real star of the house?
"Ada Storm, welcome to the Estate. You are not missed, by the way," Elysia's voice echoed from the walls.
My eye twitched. Aisha giggled. That bitch definitely teamed up with the AI.
Ah yes, Elysia. The queen of attitude. The best part of the villa, even if I'd rather eat glass than admit it. Unlike the three AIs at home, she was different. Too real. Too human.
Which was honestly kind of terrifying.
Matthew claimed he didn't create her, and the bastard refused to say who did. Whoever it was had probably lived like a monk, reciting binary codes for fun. Because this? This was next-level creepy.
Elysia made the whole "AI vs. human apocalypse" sound real.
"Shut up, bitchy AI!" I snapped. "Go find your damn robot boyfriend and leave me alone. Maybe you'll stop being cranky like a dog in heat."
"Humph," she huffed. "Don't compare me to those low-level life forms. I am the most advanced intelligence on Earth! Your pea-sized brain couldn't even match a megabyte of me! Unlike you, I don't have hormones or your dumb little human issues. My Master—"
"Okay, that's enough," Aisha cut in quickly.
Smart move. The last time Elysia started ranting about Matthew's "godly virtues," we were stuck listening for forty-two minutes.
Seriously. Screw that AI.
Still salty from her roast, I swallowed the comeback rising in my throat. Arguing with Elysia was like throwing insults into a meat grinder—you always came out minced.
She went silent, which made me feel worse. Why was I the only one she didn't listen to?
With a scowl, I marched to the elevator.
"Where are you going?" Aisha groaned. "We're supposed to meet everyone downstairs at the Nexus."
"I'll catch up. Gotta say hi to my twin besties first," I called, waving at her like royalty as the elevator doors slid shut.
The villa had three floors. I picked the second—where the kitchen was. Priorities.
The moment the doors opened, the aroma of fresh muffins hit me like a blessing. Someone was cooking. Thank the heavens.
I made my way down the hallway and entered the oversized kitchen. Iris stood behind the counter in an apron, placing steaming muffins on a tray with gloved hands.
No chefs in sight. But I wasn't leaving without one of Iris's baked masterpieces. A glutton like me deserved the best.
When Iris spotted me, she froze. Then she squealed, practically launching herself across the kitchen and into my arms.
"Squeeee! I can't believe you're here! I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!" she screamed, hugging me so tight I briefly considered whether my ribs could still breathe.
I laughed, hugging her back. "I missed you too, girl. We seriously need to stop ghosting each other."
She pulled away, eyes sparkling, and I grinned mischievously. "Uuuuuh, someone's bust is growing."
Iris rolled her eyes, laughing. "It was bound to happen. I am sexy and fabulous, after all."
"That's the spirit!" I said proudly. My confidence-boost coaching was paying off. Ah, how they grow.
Eyes still gleaming, she rushed to the oven and pulled out another tray of muffins.
They looked divine.
"Where's Zara?" I asked, grabbing one and biting into it. Warm chocolate and crunchy nuts melted on my tongue like a dream. "That foodie would've camped here if she knew you were baking."
Iris giggled, placing a fresh batch of muffins on the counter, carefully dusting them with sugar. "Zara has ballet practice at school, so she won't be home for a while."
I raised an eyebrow. The mental image of Zara—sassy, loud Zara—doing pirouettes in a tutu was borderline traumatic. "That's impossible," I said, struggling to digest the words. "Your sister's idea of rhythm is hip-hop and disco. Ballet would make her gag."
Iris laughed, though her hands never paused their delicate work on the muffins. Honestly, they were starting to look dangerously pretty. "She made a deal with the ballet teacher. They paired her with Tommy Rogers. You should see her eyes when they dance together. It's disturbing. In front of that bastard, she turns into some kind of cute, obedient puppy."
"You don't like him," I noted, biting into a muffin. My curiosity was fully engaged now, sweetened by sugar and drama.
"It's just—" Iris slammed her fist against the counter, frustration bubbling over. "She should be spending time with me, not with some random boy. I feel so... betrayed."
"Classic sister phase," I chuckled. "So what about you? No boy crushes, no high school sweetheart?"
Her face flushed immediately, and the sugar sifter in her hand clenched a little too tightly. Oops. There went the even sprinkle. "Of course not," she blurted. "Boys are gross. Disgusting animals."
I smiled. "That's gonna wound your brother."
She shot me a look, one brow arched. "Please. I tell him that all the time. For some weird reason, it makes him happy. Not that he shows it, the smug bastard."
I laughed again. A guy like Matthew would take joy in having sisters who hated boys. God forbid one of them ever brought a boyfriend home—Matthew would terrify the poor lad just by looking at him.
"Hey," Iris said, her tone suddenly hesitant. "Do you know what Zay—uh, I mean Matthew—was doing in Antarctica? Was it dangerous?"
I raised an eyebrow. Zay who? I definitely caught that. But I let it slide.
"Relax, girl," I said, watching her pretend to focus on decorating. She was dying to know. "He just went to meet some people out there to wrap up business."
"People live there?" she cried. Then she sighed, brushing flour off her apron. "I know I'm overreacting. It's just... he carries so much alone. Zara and I can help too, you know? We're not little kids anymore."
I sighed. True, they acted like bratty teens, but their love for their brother was deep—borderline obsessive, if we're being honest. Still, Matthew was the overprotective type to his very core. He'd rather burn the world down alone than let them lift a single finger. Even that, in his mind, would be "too much."
"Honestly," I said with my mouth full of heaven—aka her muffins, "you need to be like me: shameless. A brother like that? You ride that privilege like royalty. Let him break his back while you slay in designer gowns. That's what I call modern royalty, honey."
Iris laughed. "Right? I almost forgot. I'm supposed to be spoiled. Guess I better enjoy the perks before he notices."
I grinned. Good. She was back on track.
"I gotta bounce. The others are waiting in the basement."
"Wait," Iris said, pushing a tray toward me. "These are for you guys." She paused, then added quietly, "The center muffin is for Luke."
I examined the muffin in question. It was definitely superior—richer, glossier, extra care. I pouted. Why did Luke get the five-star treatment? She probably made it with extra love. Hm. Suspicious.
Does she...? No. She wouldn't. Would she?
I narrowed my eyes at Iris. She looked away, face turning red.
I grinned. Oh, poor Matthew.
Tray in hand, I left the kitchen and headed for the curved staircase. At the sitting area, I took a deep breath.
Here we go again.
"Open the Nexus, bitch!" I shouted.
Elysia snorted. "I'm not a bitch, bitch."
But she opened it anyway. Of course she did. She couldn't resist a direct command, no matter how much she muttered under her breath.
The center of the sitting room split open, revealing a staircase that led down. I descended into the bright hum of the computer room.
The space was ridiculous. Screens plastered every inch of the walls, weird machines whirred and blinked in corners, and wires ran like veins through the place. I'd never seen anything like it.
Whatever this room was, it wasn't just a lab.
It was a freaking war base.
So many computers were lit up, and a series of long, complicated codes ran across the displays. The four of them surrounded Matthew, talking and laughing while he typed some geek stuff into the monitors. I'd always admired how Matthew's fingers moved like a blur in a way that felt almost otherworldly, or how he handled so many monitors without ever getting overwhelmed. Things were moving so fast on his screen that I couldn't make sense of anything—but Matthew seemed to be doing just fine.
In fact, he was doing great. There was no other place he fit better than here, in his element.
Still carrying the tray, I walked over to them, sticking out my tongue in irritation. I came here to see Luke traumatized, but the asshole seemed to be doing fine. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
"Who wants muffins?" I called, placing the tray on top of the bar—though not forgetting to take another muffin for myself.
They all gathered around me, those gluttonous foodies. I could swear Obinna had sparkles in his eyes.
"They taste heavenly," Aisha said, biting into a muffin and closing her eyes like that would somehow make it taste better.
"The one in the center's for you," I told Luke, my teeth gritted. I wanted so badly to eat that muffin myself.
Luke didn't seem to notice my frustration. The bastard just stuffed the muffin into his mouth like it was nothing special. Idiot.
Matthew had also left whatever he was doing and joined us. Now we all stood around the tray just eating.
We were gluttons, through and through.
"Hey, is it Zara or Iris that made these?" Obinna asked, mouth full.
I raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you think it's me?"
"'Cause it would taste differe—" Obinna winced as Aisha nudged his shoulder. "I mean, because it's too soon for you to make those. You just arrived."
My eyebrow twitched, but I let it go and asked something that actually interested me. "Hey, where's that toy gun?"
There was silence for a few seconds. Everyone stopped eating at once, followed by the sound of Luke gritting his teeth.
"It's not a toy, dammit."
With a sigh, Matthew retrieved something wrapped in cloth from the top of the thick marble bar. He unwrapped it and handed it to me.
I collected the device and studied it curiously. It was thick and bulky, shaped like a gun with a handle, trigger and all. Yep—definitely a toy.
I pointed it at Luke, delight swelling in my chest when he visibly flinched.
"Hey," I said to the others, making sure they were paying attention. "This toy is coming with me."
"Umm, Ada," Aisha called, hand on her forehead. "That is really not a toy."
Obinna stepped forward slowly, hand extended, silently asking for the weapon. Reluctantly, I handed it over.
Matthew walked to a cluster of computers beside the wall and pulled out a small, metallic cage with a lab rat inside. Without a word, Obinna handed him the toy thing. Matthew placed the cage on the ground, stepped back a few feet, and aimed the gun-like device at it.
"Hey, you guys should get behind me so the waves don't affect you," he called to Aisha and me. Luke and Obinna were already behind him without being told.
I was getting curious now. Why were the guys so wary of this weird-looking thing? Aisha and I moved behind Matthew like he said.
"Watch closely," he instructed, then pulled the trigger.
There was a soft buzzing noise. That was it. I raised an eyebrow—was this some kind of trick?
But the rat didn't think so.
With a sharp shriek, the rat began to bleed from its ears, thrashing violently inside the cage. Then its eyes followed, blood pooling rapidly and staining the white marble floor crimson. Before I could even process what I was seeing, the rat gave a final cry and collapsed into the pool of its own blood, dead.
I slapped my palm over my nose and turned away, struggling not to gag up the muffins I'd just eaten.
"What the hell is that?" I asked, bent over the bar and desperately trying to forget the grotesque scene. But it wasn't working. Not at all.
Everyone was silent for a beat until Luke finally spoke.
"We stole it from her closet. Obinna didn't know what it was and decided to test it. I was in range and got hit." His eyes shifted away from mine. "It wasn't a pleasant experience."
"The point is," Matthew continued, his tone thoughtful, "either the Obsidian Pact has advanced so far in technology that they can create weapons like this, which explains their confidence... or they're working with someone who can. Both are bad news, but the second scenario gives us a better chance. We just need to find that person and shut them down."
"What do you think, Obi?" Aisha asked.
"It's probably the second," Obinna said, a smile on his face. "Evelyn kept muttering about some Warlord while we were stalking her. I'm almost certain that bastard made the weapon."
I wasn't following everything, but I pieced enough together to make a deduction. There was still something I needed to understand, though—something that scared me. I usually avoided it like the plague, but not today.
"Evelyn is dead," I said, my voice shaky. "It's all over the news. How did that happen?"
"We don't know," Luke said, brows furrowed. I could tell he didn't like where this conversation was going. "The Obsidian guys probably got to her for losing such a valuable weapon. Who knows? But that's not our problem."
"Mr. Cyprian died too," I added, voice trembling. "And that just so happened to occur when you guys went to investigate."
Silence again. Then Aisha, voice quivering slightly, asked, "You think that has anything to do with us? I mean, yeah, death loves us so much it kills off our suspects like flies—but that's just it. I'm pretty sure none of these boys have even gutted a chicken before. Don't overestimate them."
"That's hurtful," Obinna whistled.
"Right..." I murmured, slightly relieved but still uneasy. "What was I thinking?"
Matthew shot me a look, one eyebrow raised. Then he sighed and went on, "Now that that little episode is over, we have to focus on the bigger problem. Obinna and Luke weren't exactly discreet during their mission. There's a high chance the Obsidian Pact knows about us now."
I clenched my fists and turned to him. "Let them be wary. It's about time they found out anyway."
"You don't get it," Luke said with a sigh. "This is an organization of madmen who aren't afraid to challenge the Storms—your family. They might connect the dots to you immediately because Obinna and I are your friends. By playing this game, you might end up handing them the ultimate card."
I gritted my teeth. "Say it. What could give them the edge over my family?"
Matthew groaned, clearly frustrated.
"You," he said flatly. "All they have to do is get you—and it's game over."