Chapter 4 : Life-Saving Favor

The party was at a penthouse overlooking Central Park, and Lucas shouldn''t have been there.

Ryan had insisted. "Networking opportunity. Important people. You need to be seen."

So Lucas went. Wore a suit that felt like someone else''s skin. Carried a glass of champagne he didn''t drink. Stood near the wall and watched.

The room was full of money. Old money. New money. Money that whispered and money that shouted. Men in tailored suits discussing mergers. Women in designer dresses trading gossip. The air smelled of expensive perfume and ambition.

Lucas was about to leave when he saw the boy in the corner.

Young. Maybe sixteen. Blond hair, blue eyes that were wide with panic. Three older men had him backed against the balcony doors. Their body language said casual conversation. The boy''s body language said trapped animal.

Lucas recognized the type. The men were Yans. He''d seen their photos in Ryan''s office—Arthur Yan and his sons. New York''s newest, most aggressive crime family. They''d moved in from Chicago six months ago, buying up territory, making noise.

The boy was trying to slip past them. One of the Yans put a hand on his shoulder. Not violent. Just heavy. Possessive.

Lucas set down his champagne glass. Walked over.

He didn''t have a plan. Ren would have had a plan. Ren would have assessed threats, identified exits, calculated odds. Lucas just walked.

"Excuse me," he said. His voice was calm. Polite.

The Yans turned. Three sets of eyes assessed him. Found him lacking.

"Private conversation," the oldest one said. Arthur Yan himself. Mid-forties. Cold eyes. A scar along his jawline.

"I think he wants to leave," Lucas said.

The boy—Dylan, Lucas remembered now, Dylan Soldis, heir to the Soldis family fortune—looked at him with desperate gratitude.

Arthur Yan smiled. It wasn''t a friendly smile. "And who are you?"

"Lucas Yang. I sing at the September Club."

"Ah." Yan''s smile widened. "The club Ryan Lee owns. Small place. Cute."

The insult was deliberate. Lucas ignored it. "Dylan looks uncomfortable."

"Just having a chat about business." Yan''s hand was still on Dylan''s shoulder. "The Soldis family has some properties we''re interested in. Dylan was about to introduce us to his father."

Dylan shook his head. "My father isn''t here."

"Then we''ll wait." Yan''s tone left no room for argument.

Lucas stepped closer. Into Yan''s space. A dangerous move. Ren would have called it stupid. "I think you should let him go."

Silence. The other partygoers nearby had noticed now. Were watching. Not intervening. Just watching.

Yan''s eyes narrowed. "You have courage, kid. Or stupidity. Hard to tell which."

Before Lucas could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

"Arthur. Didn''t know you were in town."

Alexander Xiao appeared beside them. He wore a black suit that fit him like a second skin. His expression was pleasant, but his eyes were cold.

Yan''s hand dropped from Dylan''s shoulder. "Alexander. Just having a conversation."

"Looked like more than that." Alexander''s gaze swept over Dylan, then Lucas. "Dylan. Your father''s looking for you. Something about a car waiting."

Dylan didn''t need to be told twice. He slipped past the Yans, gave Lucas a grateful nod, and disappeared into the crowd.

Yan''s smile tightened. "Interfering in other people''s business, Alexander?"

"Just helping a friend." Alexander''s tone was mild. "Speaking of business, I heard you''re looking at the Soldis waterfront properties. Interesting choice. Zoning issues. Environmental concerns. Could be costly."

Yan''s eyes flickered. "We can handle it."

"Of course." Alexander smiled. "But maybe there''s a better approach. The Soldis family owes me a favor now. I could broker an introduction. Smooth the way."

"What do you want?"

"One percent. Of whatever deal you make with them."

Yan stared. Then laughed. A short, harsh sound. "One percent for an introduction?"

"For making the introduction happen. For ensuring Dylan gets home safely tonight. For... resolving this misunderstanding." Alexander''s eyes went to Lucas. "And for ensuring my associate here doesn''t have any further problems."

Associate. The word hung in the air.

Yan looked at Lucas. Then back at Alexander. "He''s yours?"

"He''s under my protection." Alexander said it casually, as if stating a fact of nature. "So are his friends. So is the September Club."

The threat was clear. Unspoken but understood.

Yan nodded slowly. "One percent."

"Good." Alexander extended a hand. "I''ll have my people draw up the agreement."

They shook. A business deal sealed over a boy''s fear.

Yan and his sons walked away. The tension in the air dissipated, replaced by the normal party hum.

Alexander turned to Lucas. "That was brave. And stupid."

"I didn''t know what else to do."

"You could have found me. Or Ryan. Or any of the security." Alexander studied him. "But you didn''t. You walked right into it."

Lucas didn''t respond.

Alexander''s expression softened slightly. "Come on. I''ll give you a ride home."

They left the party. Alexander''s car was waiting at the curb—black, sleek, driver holding the door.

Inside, the world went quiet. Leather seats. Dark tinted windows. The city passing by in a blur of light.

Alexander took out his phone. Made a call. "Song. Draw up an agreement. Yan-Soldis deal. One percent to us. Yes. Standard terms."

He hung up. Looked at Lucas. "You okay?"

"Fine."

"Don''t lie to me." Alexander''s voice was quiet. "Your hands are shaking."

Lucas looked at his hands. They were, indeed, shaking. Adrenaline crash.

"Yan is dangerous," Alexander said. "More dangerous than he looks. He came from Chicago with nothing. Built an empire on bodies. He doesn''t forget slights."

"I didn''t mean—"

"I know." Alexander cut him off. "That''s what makes it interesting. You didn''t mean to challenge him. You just did. Instinctively."

The car turned onto Lucas''s street. Slowed.

Alexander''s phone buzzed. He answered. Listened. "European capital? Where?... Interesting. Doesn''t feel like local players. Keep watching."

He hung up. Looked out the window. "European money''s been buying up properties in New York lately. Whole buildings. Not through normal channels. Through shell companies. Offshore accounts."

Lucas waited.

"Doesn''t feel like local players," Alexander repeated, mostly to himself. "Different patterns. Different priorities."

The car stopped in front of Lucas''s building.

Alexander turned to him. "You''re under my protection now. Yan knows it. Others will know it. That comes with obligations."

"What obligations?"

"Don''t do stupid things without telling me first." Alexander''s smile was faint. "And call me if you need anything. Anything at all."

Lucas nodded. Opened the door.

"Lucas."

He turned back.

"Thank you," Alexander said. "For helping Dylan. It was the right thing to do. Even if it was stupid."

Lucas got out. The car drove away.

He stood on the sidewalk, watching it disappear. The night was cold. His breath made clouds in the air.

He felt a piece of paper in his pocket. He hadn''t put it there.

He took it out. Small. Folded. Neat handwriting:

**Be careful of the Yans.**

No signature. Dylan must have slipped it to him when they were leaving the party.

He looked up at his building. The windows were dark. Everyone asleep.

He folded the note. Put it back in his pocket.

Be careful of the Yans.

As if he had a choice.

**