TRACKS

fall out

The silence stretched, taut as a noose.

Kinn’s chest heaved, his hands trembling by his sides though he willed them still. His eyes darted to Porsche still pale, still broken from the earlier revelation then to Tankhun clutching Porchay, to Pete frantically holding Vegas’s bleeding leg, to Rain who was shielding his stomach with his entire body.

The weight of every gaze crushed him. Every second he hesitated was another second of torment, another life at risk.

“Kinn,” Porsche’s voice cracked, barely more than a whisper. “Please…”

Kinn looked back at him at the love of his life, at the family he’d sworn to protect and still, he did not move.

Venice’s smirk deepened, cruel satisfaction glinting in his eyes. “Stubborn as ever,” he drawled. “You really think silence makes you strong?”

And then.......Bang!

The shot rang louder than thunder.

Kinn jerked violently, the bullet grazing across his shoulder, tearing through fabric and flesh. He stumbled, clutching the wound, his knees nearly buckling. Porsche screamed, trying to break free from Tankhun’s grip to reach him.

Venice tilted his head, lowering the gun with a mocking smile. “That one was closer. Keep hesitating, and I promise, the next will go straight through your chest.”

The atmosphere shattered panic, sobs, shouts, and the sound of weapons tightening around them.

But in the chaos, a blur of movement cut through.

Phoenix.

He surged forward with deadly precision, his hand snapping out to seize the wrist of one of Kunda’s men. A twist, a shove, and in a breath, the gun was in his grip, its barrel steady and unflinching.

He leveled it directly at Venice.

“Enough!” Phoenix roared, his voice echoing through the hall, carrying the weight of fury and desperation. His usually calm eyes burned, sharp as blades, unblinking as they locked on Venice.

The room froze again two guns now raised, two men staring each other down across the wreckage of family and betrayal.

For the first time since stepping into the hall, Venice’s smile faltered.

The room froze in time.
Every breath seemed to echo. Every pair of eyes Therapanyukul, guests, even Kunda’s men was locked on the two cousins facing each other with weapons drawn.

Phoenix’s stance was firm, shoulders squared, his finger resting lightly on the trigger but not pulling. His chest rose and fell with controlled rage, though his eyes… his eyes held something colder, steadier.

Venice tilted his head, lips curving into a ghost of a smile. His gun didn’t waver. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice dripping with venom. “The loyal lapdog decides to bite. Didn’t think you had the guts, cousin.”

Phoenix’s voice cut through the tension, low but commanding.
“I’m not your lapdog, Venice. And you’re not family anymore not after this.”

A flicker of something pain, perhaps, or mockery flicked across Venice’s expression, gone as quickly as it came. He barked a laugh, cold and hollow. “Family? Don’t make me laugh, Phoenix. Where was this family when I needed them? Where were they when I was cast aside, forgotten? You stand there pretending to protect them, but you know as well as I do they’d burn you too if it suited their power.”

Phoenix’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t lower the gun. His voice sharpened.
“You think this is justice? Pointing guns at your own blood? Making them bleed just to prove you exist? No, Venice. This isn’t justice it’s your pride eating you alive.”

Venice’s smile widened, but his eyes darkened. “Don’t you dare talk about justice to me. Not when this family built their empire on blood. On betrayals. On graves. Including mine.”

“You’re wrong,” Phoenix shot back, taking a step closer, his aim unshaken. “The only grave you’re digging tonight is your own. Because no matter what you say, no matter how much you hate them pulling that trigger on me, on them, won’t bring you peace. It’ll just make you the monster you swore you hated.”

The hall held its breath.

For a heartbeat, Venice faltered, his finger tightening on the trigger but not pressing. His smile wavered just slightly as if Phoenix’s words had scraped something raw beneath the armor of vengeance.

Kunda’s sharp voice cut the silence, laced with irritation:
“Venice. Enough talk. We didn’t come here to play.”

But Venice’s eyes stayed locked on Phoenix, two mirrors of defiance and broken history, guns still aimed, neither willing to fall.

The silence shattered then a gunshot cracked like thunder.

Then another.

The hall exploded into madness.

A gunshot cracked from the crowd not Phoenix’s, not Venice’s, but someone else’s. A shrill scream followed as glass shattered overhead, chandeliers rattling like thunder.

The Therapanyukul men surged in, guns blazing, rushing to shield their bosses and families. Guests ducked beneath tables, screams mingling with the sharp sting of gunfire. The once-holy ceremony had turned into a battlefield.

Through the chaos, Venice’s eyes burned with one single target. His gun swung toward kinn, hatred pulsing in every line of his body.

“NO!” Phoenix roared, lunging forward, his own weapon forgotten. He crashed into Venice, the two of them colliding violently, struggling for control.

The world narrowed to their fight two cousins, both scarred by the family’s sins, locked in a deadly dance.

“You’ll never touch my father!” Phoenix snarled, forcing Venice’s wrist away from Kinn’s chest.

“You’re just another pawn!” Venice spat back, his grip like iron as he twisted the gun back toward Phoenix. “This family destroys everything it touches so I’ll destroy it first!”

They wrestled, the gun swinging dangerously between them, their faces inches apart, sweat and blood streaking down their skin. Sky screamed Phoenix’s name, his voice tearing from his throat, but it was drowned by the thunderstorm of bullets around them.

Then......

BANG.

A single gunshot cut through the roar, sharp, final.

The world stopped.

Every gun froze. Every scream silenced.

Both Phoenix and Venice went still, the gun slipping between them, smoke curling from its barrel.

Their bodies stiffened, breath caught in their throats, eyes wide in shock.

And then slowly blood began to drip.

But from which one?

No one moved. The Therapanyukul family stood rooted to the floor, horror etched across their faces as they watched the two cousins both frozen, both trembling locked in a table of life and death.

The air was suffocating, charged with dread Rain stumbles clutching his swell while sky looked at his feet as warm liquid oozed out from his wedding gown. No one knew who had been shot.

Not yet.

🌹💙🌹💙🌹💙Comment who you think was shot