The morning sun peeked over the horizon as Ryan stepped out of Marcus's car, the familiar trail stretching before him — a quiet, winding 3km path that led to Crestmont High. It was the only time of day he felt like a regular student, a brief pocket of solitude before the weight of his family's name settled on his shoulders again.
But today, someone was waiting for him.
Leaning casually against the old oak tree by the crossroads stood John—arms crossed, expression unreadable, eyes locked on Ryan the moment he arrived.
"Morning, Young Master," John said with a slight smirk, his voice low but respectful.
Ryan winced. "John, not here. Not that title."
John raised a brow but nodded. "Alright. But you're not just anyone to me anymore."
Ryan sighed, falling into step beside him. "I want to keep this life separate. At school, I'm just Ryan. Not the Sinclair heir. Not anyone important. Just... a guy trying to make it through algebra without losing his mind."
John gave a small chuckle, then turned serious. "I can respect that. I won't say a word. But I've got a request."
Ryan glanced at him, cautious. "Go on."
"When I graduate," John said, his tone sharp with purpose, "I want in. Into the underworld. Under your wing. I've seen the others—they follow orders. But I want to follow you. Zeek believes in you. I do too."
Ryan slowed his pace, his thoughts turning. John wasn't just a school thug. There was discipline behind his strength, loyalty in his eyes. Ryan weighed the request carefully.
"I'll think about it," Ryan said at last. "But I don't hand out loyalty like candy. You want to stand beside me, you prove you're worthy. Uncle Zeek has high hopes for you. Don't let either of us down."
John nodded once. No words—just acknowledgment.
As Crestmont High came into view, the two fell into silence. Just before stepping onto school grounds, Ryan spoke again.
"From here on out, I walk behind you. You take the lead. I stay in your shadow. That way, no one links me to... everything else."
John didn't hesitate. "Understood."
The moment they crossed the gates, heads turned. Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Isn't that John? What's he doing with that guy?"
"Ryan Sinclair? He's just a quiet kid… What's he doing with the school bully?"
"Never seen John walk with anyone before…"
Ryan kept his gaze low, maintaining the illusion of being forgettable. But the world had other plans.
From the far end of the courtyard, Abel emerged — broad-shouldered, cocky grin, and flanked by two wannabe tough guys. The self-proclaimed school bully. His eyes locked on Ryan like a hawk spotting prey.
"Hey, new kid," Abel called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Daily allowance. You're in Crestmont now. Pay up."
Ryan didn't flinch. But before he could answer, John stepped forward.
"He's under my protection," John said, voice firm and final. "Touch him, and you answer to me."
The courtyard fell silent.
Abel's grin faltered, just for a moment. He looked from Ryan to John, calculating.
"No one touches him," John repeated, stepping closer. "Not today. Not ever."
Abel raised his hands mockingly. "Fine. Didn't know he had a bodyguard."
John smirked. "I'm not his bodyguard. I'm his man."
The words hit harder than a punch. Abel turned and backed off, his posse close behind. The crowd dispersed, but not without more whispers — curiosity giving way to uncertainty, maybe even fear.
Ryan remained silent through it all, his heart steady, his mind already running through a dozen outcomes.
This was just the beginning.
He didn't want this attention, but now he had it. The challenge would be keeping his name hidden, his power quiet, and his enemies guessing.
As they entered the school building, John walked a step ahead, shielding him from the curious stares.
Ryan stared at the back of John's head, thoughtful.
"Maybe he really is worthy."