Link Between Us

### Prologue: **A Loaded Beginning** The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting streaks of orange and crimson over the quiet neighborhood in Quezon City, Philippines. The Sinary and Maseltov families had always been more than neighbors—they were partners in business and bound by years of camaraderie. Their sprawling houses, separated by a single wrought iron gate, symbolized their unity. For as long as anyone could remember, their lives had been intertwined, from backyard barbecues to joint business ventures. But like any bond built on shared stakes, the cracks came slowly at first—subtle and unseen. --- “Marcus, give it back!” Ryna’s voice rang out, shrill and exasperated. She stood barefoot in the Maseltov garden, hands on her hips, glaring at the boy perched lazily on the low stone wall dividing their homes. Marcus, holding her sketchbook out of reach, smirked. At seventeen, he was already taller than most boys his age, with an athletic build and a streak of mischief that often got him into trouble. “You drew me looking like an i***t again, didn’t you?” he teased, flipping through the pages. “Give it back, or I swear—” “Or you’ll what?” He laughed, leaning back against the wall. “You can’t even reach me.” Ryna groaned, her cheeks flushed with both frustration and embarrassment. Marcus had always been her greatest annoyance. From stealing her hairbands to teasing her about her crooked handwriting, he never missed an opportunity to make her life a little harder. And yet, there was something about him—something she couldn’t quite place—that made it impossible to stay mad for long. Before she could hurl another threat, Pyson Maseltov’s deep voice called out from the veranda. “Ryna, inside! Family meeting. Now.” She shot Marcus one last glare before stomping off, muttering under her breath about “stupid boys.” Marcus watched her retreat, his smirk fading. Something about Pyson’s tone had been off—urgent, almost somber. --- The Maseltovs and the Sinarys sat together in the Maseltov living room, the atmosphere heavy with tension. Pyson and Lucas, once close as brothers, sat on opposite ends of the couch. Their wives, Reign and Jessica, exchanged worried glances. “Let’s not sugarcoat it,” Pyson began, his voice steady but grave. “The business is failing. We’ve tried cutting costs, diversifying our portfolio, even bringing in outside consultants. Nothing’s worked.” Lucas ran a hand through his graying hair. “We just need more time—” “We don’t have time, Lucas,” Pyson interrupted. “The creditors are breathing down our necks. Another six months of this, and we’ll be bankrupt.” Jessica placed a hand on Lucas’s arm, as if to steady him. “There must be another way,” she said softly. “There is,” Pyson said, leaning forward. “My brother in Russia. He’s offered us a lifeline—a chance to recover everything we’ve lost.” “Your brother’s business is…” Lucas hesitated, searching for the right words. “Illegal?” Pyson finished for him. “Yes, it’s weaponry dealing. But it’s profitable, Lucas. And right now, profit is all that matters.” Reign, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “We wouldn’t have to stay involved forever. Just long enough to pay off our debts and rebuild what we’ve lost.” The room fell silent. Marcus, sitting in the corner, exchanged a glance with Ryna. He could see the worry in her eyes, the same worry that churned in his gut. This wasn’t just about money—it was about survival. --- Later that night, Marcus found himself sitting on the wall again, staring up at the stars. The familiar hum of cicadas filled the air, but his mind was anything but calm. “You’re really going, aren’t you?” He turned to see Ryna standing behind him, her arms crossed. She looked smaller than usual, her confident façade replaced by something more vulnerable. “I guess so,” he said after a moment. “Your dad thinks I can help.” “Help with what? Selling guns?” Her voice was sharp, but he could hear the underlying fear. Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know, Ryn. Maybe this is what I’m supposed to do. Help your dad, help my family.” She climbed onto the wall beside him, her shoulder brushing his. For a while, they sat in silence, watching the stars. “Promise me something,” she said finally. “What?” “Promise me you won’t turn into some… criminal or whatever. Promise me you’ll stay the Marcus I know.” He looked at her, surprised by the earnestness in her voice. “I promise.” She nodded, satisfied, but there was still a hint of doubt in her eyes. --- The next morning, the families gathered at the airport. Marcus stood with a small suitcase, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. His parents hugged him tightly, whispering words of encouragement. When it was Ryna’s turn to say goodbye, she hesitated. For once, she didn’t have a snarky comment or a teasing remark. Instead, she simply said, “Don’t forget your promise.” “I won’t,” he replied, giving her a lopsided grin. “Don’t miss me too much, okay?” She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. As Marcus walked toward the terminal with Pyson, Ryna watched him go, a strange ache settling in her chest. She didn’t know why, but it felt like the end of something. And in many ways, it was. --- “Some promises,” Marcus would later reflect, “are easier to make than to keep.”