— A Week Later, somewhere in Makati —
Claire pulled the hood of her jacket tighter around her face as she stepped off the bus. Her eyes darted around, heart pounding. She clutched the single item she had left from that night—Damon's Fool tarot card—now hidden safely in the inner pocket of her hoodie.
She'd done her best to lay low. But no amount of caution could stop the nightmares of Damon and Phoebe being dragged away. Every night, she saw their unconscious bodies, the black-clad soldiers, the gas. And that one name she kept hearing in her head:
"Patient D.A."
She needed help.
And right now, there was only one person she could think of.
— Same Day, 6:34 p.m. at a Quiet Coffee Shop —
Alfie and Loren sat at a corner booth, both in civilian clothes. Their faces were stiff, uneasy. The aftermath of the massacre still haunted them. Loren hadn't spoken much since. Her nightmares now included children wearing Fool masks—masks she couldn't erase from her memory.
Kevin arrived late.
Dressed sharply and walking with an air of arrogance, he gave Alfie a pat on the shoulder, completely ignoring Loren's piercing stare.
"No more leads on The Fool yet," he said, sliding into the booth. "But it's only a matter of time. He'll slip up."
Before Alfie could respond, the bell above the café door jingled.
Claire entered.
Claire sat quietly in a dim corner of a small café, fingers trembling slightly as she gripped a still-full cup of lukewarm coffee. Her eyes didn't leave the door.
The bell above the entrance chimed.
Alfie and Loren don't have any idea who she was or why suddenly left them after giving them a very brief information about the fool and telling them to enjoy the rest of the day with themselves for now.
Kevin slow walks to Claire's table—sharp suit, unreadable expression, and that familiar presence that made everyone turn when he entered a room. His eyes landed on Claire in seconds.
He approached without hesitation.
"Claire," he said flatly. "You called. What's going on?"
She stood and gave him a brief, tense hug before motioning for him to sit. "Thank you for coming, Kuya. I didn't want to do this over the phone."
He took the seat across from her, eyebrows drawing together.
"You sound serious."
Claire nodded, swallowing hard.
"I am. Someone... someone very important to me has gone missing. He and another person were taken. No warning, no trail. Just gone."
Kevin leaned forward, voice low.
"Do you know who took them?"
Claire shook her head quickly.
"No. I wish I did. It happened so fast. There was gas. I passed out. And when I woke up, they were gone. I don't even know where to begin looking."
Kevin's brow twitched slightly.
"Who are they?! How dare they are to do that to you! Don't worry ill punish them.
Tell me all details and how can I help you"
She nodded.
"You know how to trace people. You have contacts—even if most of them are the useless kind of police, I know you know who to push."
Kevin scoffed softly, leaning back.
"You're not wrong about that. Most of them are fat, lazy, boastful idiots who lose breath walking up two flights of stairs. No talent, no drive—just uniforms collecting paychecks."
Claire almost smiled.
"That's why I'm asking you instead of them."
Kevin crossed his arms, watching her carefully.
"This friend... what are they to you?"
She hesitated.
"Someone who helped me. Someone good. Someone who doesn't deserve to vanish without a trace."
His eyes narrowed.
"Are you telling me everything?"
"I'm telling you what matters," she answered calmly. "I need your help. Please."
A few seconds of silence passed. Then Kevin slowly nodded.
"I'll look into it only because you were involved. I'll see what I can dig up."
Claire exhaled in quiet relief. "Thank you."
Kevin stood, adjusting his coat.
"Go home. And if anything comes back to you—any detail, no matter how small—tell me."
As he turned to leave, Claire sat still, her fingers clenched tightly beneath the table.
I know you're dangerous, Kuya. But right now, you're all I've got.
And in her coat pocket, the blank tarot card pulsed faintly with weight—both literal and emotional.
Hold on, Damon... I'm doing everything I can.
Meanwhile, Alfie and Loren sat across from each other by the café's wide glass window, trying to do exactly that. Loren stirred her iced mocha gently, watching the swirl of whipped cream slowly melt into the dark drink. A light drizzle of caramel trailed down the inside of the cup. Beside her, Alfie quietly sipped on his strong, black Americano.
"So… that's it?" Loren asked, her voice low, glancing toward the far table where Kevin now sat talking to a girl they hadn't seen before. "He just tells us to relax and then walks straight to another table?"
"Yup." Alfie set down his cup with a quiet thud. "Classic Kevin."
They both tried not to stare too obviously, but their curiosity was undeniable. The girl Kevin was speaking with looked young—maybe late teens or early twenties. She fidgeted with her hands while speaking, clearly anxious. Kevin, on the other hand, had his full attention on her, his usual smirk completely gone.
"That's… unusual," Loren muttered, sipping her mocha again. "Have you seen that girl before?"
"Nope. Never," Alfie replied. "Not one of the officers. Not a contact. And definitely not a fangirl type."
"I don't think I've ever seen Kevin look like that. He's listening—really listening."
"Exactly." Alfie leaned back slightly in his chair, keeping his gaze casual. "Something's up. But if he wanted us involved, he'd say something."
Loren sighed. "Still… doesn't sit right. She looks scared. And Kevin looking serious? That's got 'trouble' written all over it."
"Maybe," Alfie said, picking up his cup again. "But until he says otherwise, we're just two people enjoying overpriced coffee in Makati."
Loren gave him a sideways look. "Overpriced but worth it."
Alfie cracked a faint grin. "Fair."
And so, they sat—watching, wondering, but not interfering. The scene a few tables away played on like a quietly brewing storm, the calm before something that neither of them could yet see.
— Kevin's POV—
He already knew what he needed: someone had taken someone from Claire. Someone made her feel powerless. That was enough.
Kevin slowly leaned back in his seat. From afar, it would look like a casual stretch of the shoulders.
He was boiling.
"They'll pay." His thoughts were like glass breaking, sharp and loud.
"Whoever they are, whatever they've done—I'll make sure they suffer for laying a finger on you."
He wasn't the type to rescue people. He didn't do mercy.
But vengeance? That he could do.
And if Claire thought he was going to let this go without retribution, she clearly forgot who he really was.
She may not have said it directly—but someone had violated her peace. That was a declaration of war.
Kevin's fist tightened under the table.
"You came to the right person, Claire," he said finally, his voice eerily calm.
"Whoever made you cry... whoever took someone from you... they're already dead. They just don't know it yet."