Till Our Hearts Cross 👨❤️💋👨 💏

Porsche

I managed to recover Vegas' bike and came back, only to find that nothing had changed. Macau was still in the operating theatre, and Vegas, still seated outside, was as stoic as ever. His calm exterior almost had me fooled, but I noticed the slight tremor in his hands, the barely perceptible shift in his posture. Deep down, I knew it-he was worried. The man was a stone, yet right now, he was being torn apart inside. Macau meant everything to him, and I could see the way that gnawing fear twisted in his gut. But Vegas... Vegas was still holding it together, controlling every urge to break, to do something reckless.

And yet, I knew what he was waiting for. He was giving Macau time to heal before he'd burn the world down for the one who mattered most to him. I could feel it-the simmering anger, the anticipation of vengeance, the hunger to get his hands on P Thun. That's what had him so calm. The storm was building inside him, and when the time came, Vegas wasn't going to stop until he made sure P Thun regretted ever crossing him.

As the hours dragged on, the hospital's sterile silence pressed down on us, but Vegas remained unshaken. His gaze never wavered from the door of the operating room, even though I knew he wasn't seeing anything. He was lost in his own world of fear and fury, his thoughts surely racing towards that inevitable confrontation with P Thun.

I couldn't help but wonder how long he could hold that storm inside him. Vegas wasn't a man who did patience well. He didn't wait for things to happen; he made them happen. Yet here he was, barely blinking, as if every breath he took was one more measured second before he finally exploded. The tension between his calmness and that simmering rage was almost unbearable, and I could feel it, the way the air around him seemed to crackle.

Macau's life was hanging by a thread, and Vegas' quiet composure was the only thing stopping him from setting the entire damn hospital on fire. He was so damn controlled, so deliberate, but I could see it in his eyes-the cold fire, the thirst for retribution. It wasn't just about Macau anymore; it was personal. I knew Vegas too well. He wasn't just going to make P Thun pay for what happened to his brother. He was going to make him suffer, slowly, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he was already planning it in his head.

I took a step closer to him, not wanting to break his focus but needing him to know he wasn't alone in this. "Vegas..." I said softly, barely a whisper.

He didn't look at me, but his hand shifted slightly, like he had heard me, felt my presence. For a brief moment, I thought he might say something-anything-but he stayed silent. The weight of his thoughts, the unspoken fury, was enough of an answer.

When Macau finally emerged from surgery, his condition stable but still critical, Vegas didn't react. Not immediately. It wasn't until the doctor assured him that his brother would pull through that the tension began to ease, though only slightly. His grip on control was beginning to slip, but even as he stood to follow the doctor's orders, I could see it-Vegas was still calculating. P Thun hadn't gotten away. Not yet.

The moment Macau was stabilized, Vegas finally moved, but his steps were slow, measured. He followed the doctor without a word, but I could see it in the way he carried himself-there was a slight rigidity, a coldness to his posture that screamed of his restraint. He was holding back, not just his emotions but something far more dangerous. The anger, the fury that had been burning inside him since this whole mess started, was on the edge of exploding, but Vegas wouldn't let it spill. Not yet. Not until he knew Macau was safe.

I stayed behind, watching him, waiting for that moment when the dam would finally break. When Vegas would stop being the calm, collected brother and would be the man who would tear through anyone who dared to stand in his way.

It was then that I noticed the subtle change in his eyes. They were sharper, darker, more intense. Like he could already see P Thun's face in his mind's eye, imagining the satisfaction of tearing that bastard apart. His mind wasn't just on Macau anymore; it was on the reckoning that was coming for P Thun, and I could practically feel the fire of that reckoning igniting within him.

He spent a few minutes at Macau's side, checking on his brother, making sure everything was in place, but even then, his gaze kept flickering to the door, to the outside world. The waiting game had only just begun.

I could see it in the way Vegas clenched his jaw, how his fingers flexed into tight fists. His calm demeanor was nothing more than a mask, and I knew, as sure as the world kept turning, that the moment Macau was out of danger, Vegas was going to set everything he had on fire. The fire in his chest wasn't going to be held down for long.