a game of dare

Young Master Maxwell." The voice dragged him from the backseat haze. Maxwell's pulse quickened—not again—but he blinked awake, world snapping into predatory clarity. Uncle Don sat beside him, sixty-something loyalty etched in every wrinkle. "We've arrived," Uncle Don murmured. Gravel bit Maxwell's shoes as he stepped out. The hug came fast, fierce. "Be careful, boy. if it is Too hard? Come back." "Okay, okay," Maxwell echoed, mind already racing: Snakes everywhere. Uncle Don droned—warnings, home promises. Maxwell crushed him in a hug. "I'll survive. Tell the family I'm good. "Don's eyes gleamed. "I know, dear. Watched you grow feral. They should fear you." Damn right. Maxwell smirked. "Go uncle . I'm heading in. "The car vanished, exposing the Pierce mansion: stone jaws, glass fangs. So this is the cage. Deep breath. His father—Theodore Pierce, photo-familiar tyrant from news feeds—stood front and center, summoning his son after 18 years of silence. Flanking him: a painted stepmom, all curves and calculation; a peer-aged rival, jaw carved for boardrooms; Grandfather, ancient predator eyeing fresh meat. Theodore lunged for a hug. Maxwell dodged, offering steel fingers. "Hello, Mr. Theodore." Awkward laugh. "Son. Call me Dad. "Son?? "Learned of you a month ago. 'Dad's' a bit ..." Grandfather clamped his hand, gaze dissecting. "Maxwell. My heir." Heir to what—? "Yes. Maxwell." "Inside." The stepmom—Beatrice—and stepbrother side-eyed him like intruders scenting blood, smiles brittle as glass. "can i rest a bit i am tired from the travel "Maxwell said as soon as he entered .doesn't have the energy to do a meet and greet right at that moment. Theodore summoned the butler. "Show my son his room." "Young Master." Upstairs. "Name?" Maxwell asked the butler as he was showing him to his room. "Leonardo. Or Butler." "I need some rest don't disturb me i will come around dinner time "Maxwell doesn't hesitate to show his cold side he is only warm to people he likes. "Door slammed. Ten minutes of theater, and I'm drained. Bed claimed him, but not before phone—wallpaper: Mom's warmth, twins' chaos, real family's anchor. Dialed top contact. Instant pickup. "Maxie? Okay? you reached safely ? "Always the worrier. "Mom. Chill. You know me." "But—""u know me mom." "Dinner?" "Maxie-Maxie!" Eli and Oli's chorus, hearts cracking in stereo. Laughter bubbled. "hey , guys." "when r u coming its nearly dinner time"the twins urged maxwell in a hurry . "Guys i told you i won't be around there for some time " "Y? won't you miss us?" Pattering feet, unity weaponized. "Poppy!" Mom: "Dad's next "Pops lectures like a drill sergeant. "Not him. Nana?" "Eating. Dinner." "where is dad ?Maxwell asked indicating the man he saw from the day he can remember Turner his stepdad the father of twins Oli&Eli "Tee he was here just moment before you called Tee Tee its Max.."his mom shouted calling out her husband "Mom my ear is gonna explode .Just tell him i reached ok Uncle Bru, Aunt Bella home? Tell 'em I'm solid." "Freshen up. come home if u find it hard. And importantly No nuts.Eat some veggies as well . Love you." "Love you. Spread it around." Hung up, gut twisting. This place reeks of traps. Freshened: brown waves from Mom veiling blue Pierce ice from Dad. 18, lean predator in black shorts, blue tee—high cheeks, shadowed jaw, aura screaming approach if you dare. Knock. Leonardo the butler : Dinner. Table: Grandfather enthroned, Theodore-Beatrice-Cameron arrayed like vipers. Maxwell sat two from Cameron, gaze snagging involuntarily on the stepbrother's lithe frame, sharp collarbone peeking from his crisp shirt—too pretty for this poison den. Dangerous. "Up, Cameron," Grandfather snapped. "Max beside me." Energy? Zero.Dont have the energy to argue. Maxwell shuffled past, Cameron's half-smile brushing him like a dare, brown eyes flickering with heat-hate mix that twisted Maxwell's gut. What the f**k? "Preferences?" Grandfather grilled. Studies? Business? Business? Their poison. "Undecided." "No." "Son," Theodore cooed. Don't. "Mr. Theodore.'Son' itches. Max suffices." "Okay, Max. Beatrice—your stepmom."She sparkled, jewels clashing with homey casual—Mom's age, predator's gloss. "Hi, Max! Settle in. Cam's your guide—same school so he will show you around , your two-month lag? He'll fix it." ."Hi," Maxwell said to Cameron.No reply Silence. Grandfather roared, "Cameron! u Deaf?" "Hi. Yeah,school tour," Cameron gritted, eyes locking on Maxwell's—resentment laced with something darker, hungrier. Can't fix this circus? Exit. "Excuse me. Travel fatigue.and i am not quite hungry " Plate ignored. But as he rose, Cameron's stare burned, promising collision. Bed swallowed him. Pounding yanked him up. 8 AM. f**k. College. Door flew open on Leonardo.Fuck i am going to be late. "Blur freshen: jeans, white tee, black jacket. Messy hair, blue fire. Texts: Mom's love; real Grandpa's breakfast nag; Aunt's bank boost (Pops'd kill her). Downstairs: Beatrice and Cameron at opulence. Cameron? Brand parade—uni or auction? Is he going for model gig or something.Maxwell snagged bread. "Decent." Leonardo: "Young Master please have your breakfast the Car will be here soon." "Like Uncle Don. "Max murmered Ice-cold. Texts mid-reply, Cameron's smile plastered on. "Morning, Maxwell. Slept? Breakfast skip?" Up close, his cologne invaded—citrus-sharp, stirring unwelcome heat. Grandpa's puppet. "Save the grease. Fine.He is not here you dont have to butter me up " Maxwell's voice edged rougher, fighting the pull.Indicating his so called grandpa is not here Smile held—irritant. "Driver: time?" "25 minute " Headphones. "Stop. I will get off here ." Cameron's stare burning like a brand. Elite sprawl:Wow so this is the school my high school lyf is going to be here .The glass empire for heirs. Stares pinned him—luxe rags vs. his comfort flex (watch/shoes: millions, effortless). Gawk. I don't. But Cameron's lingered longest from the car, a silent vow. Maxwell always started his morning with cold cofee something he always needed to boost himself up.So cafetaria it is .I am already late alittle more won't do any harm.Quite a cue .Next is mine finally .Someone cut before Maxwell What the Hey don't you have eyes there is a cue ," Maxwell snarled, stares fueling rage. Boy quivered. "Need it—" "Business? Yours." Voice sliced chatter: "He's buying me a drink.