Chapter 647: Cherry: The Boys Have Arrived

The

Pugatti Chiron’s

door swung open first, smooth as a villain’s entrance in a blockbuster that had too much budget and zero shame.

Brian

stepped out like he owned the tarmac, the airport, the entire city, and possibly a couple of parallel dimensions for good measure.

He wore an oversized grey-and-white checkered sweater that probably cost more than most people’s mortgages, ironic as hell considering he’d just climbed out of a car worth more than most people’s houses, careers, retirement plans, and their children’s future therapy bills combined.

Black wide-leg trousers pooled lazily over crisp white sneakers and a black cap sat at the exact angle that screamed he paid a

stylist

to make this look accidental. Silver chain glinting like it had a personal vendetta against subtlety.

And finally, a designer bag dangling from one hand like an

afterthought

worth three months of average salary.

He adjusted the cap with theatrical slowness.

Looked around.

Grinned like a man who had arrived precisely on time to commit psychological warfare.

Phei stared.

Then his eyes slid sideways to the still-closed

PcLaren Speedtail

— humming with restrained mechanical fury, doors sealed like it was guarding state secrets.

"Tell me that’s not Landon in the Speedtail."

Brian’s laugh rolled out, warm, deeply amused, and catastrophically unhelpful. "Why? You don’t want to be the only guy on the team

without a car

that costs more than a small country yearly budget?"

Phei’s face went nuclear red.

Not even a disguised flushed but a full-on

crimson

that started at his collarbone and climbed like lava from a volcano that had been holding a grudge for centuries. Steam was approximately one more taunt away from shooting out of his ears, nostrils, and possibly his eye sockets before it injured his ego.

His jaw locked so tight his molars probably filed a formal complaint. Fists clenched at his sides like he was debating whether to freeze the entire tarmac or just disappear into the Void forever.

The great Phei Ryujin Tiamat. Master of Void-Ice.

Terror

of Legacy patriarchs. Reducer of powerful men to weeping, ball-less husks, was currently getting

ratio’d

by his own teammates’ car collection.

Landon, because the universe had a cruel sense of

comedic

timing and Landon had zero survival instincts, chose that exact second to make his entrance.

The Speedtail’s doors didn’t open like normal, civilized car doors that didn’t just swing or didn’t slide like some Poyota.

They

rose

.

Dihedral doors sweeping upward in a motion that looked less like automotive engineering and more like a mechanical angel unfurling its wings. Like the car itself had decided it deserved a personal orchestral score and lens flare.

The afternoon sun hit the arc at the perfect angle — actual,

honest-to-god

lens flare on a car door in real life.

Phei’s left eye

twitched.

Landon stepped out.

Curly blonde

hair catching the light like he’d bribed the sun for a sponsorship deal. Oatmeal-grey oversized sweater hanging loose and effortlessly expensive over olive cargo pants that screamed he

could be hiking but he chose to flex instead.

A black crossbody bag. Pearl necklace — actual fucking pearls, creamy white against his throat, the absolute unhinged madman — resting like he’d

mugged a duchess

and won.

White sneakers so pristine they probably glowed in the dark.

He looked like a fashion magazine had

projectile-vomited

money onto a highschool student and the result had achieved aesthetic enlightenment.

Like someone had typed

"rich but make it casual"

into an AI and the AI had replied,

"say less, king.

"

Phei’s right eye joined the twitching party.

Both eyes. Twitching. In perfect, horrified unison.

This wasn’t an arrival. This was a coordinated psychological attack on him disguised as friendship and reliable transportation.

But then movement from the Speedtail’s passenger side caught his attention.

The other dihedral door had rose with the same dramatic flair — and from behind it emerged someone very,

very

familiar to Phei.

Dark hair cascading over shoulders. Sharp features arranged in quiet, assessing calm. The particular energy of a woman who knew her exact

market value

and had stopped accepting discounts years ago.

Phei’s brain blue-screened.

He’d met her at the club and they’d chatted before she’d vanished into the crowd the second Landon and Brian showed up. No follow-up or indication she and his amateur (in women) teammate even existed in the same universe.

How the hell did she—

When did they—

What unholy sequence of events—

"Phei."

Landon crossed the distance with easy strides and extended his hand.

The greeting was brief. Firm single pump and then a release. No bro-hug. No back-slap or the choreographed chest-bump like the ones Brian and Landon performed on each other that looked like they’d been rehearsed for a sports movie.

They knew.

Both of them had learned early — through trial, error, and one very awkward conversation — that Phei had strict conditions about physical contact with other men.

There were boundaries between the

once-bullied-boy-turned-god.

Lines that were not to be crossed no matter how many championships they will win or how much alcohol was involved.

The friendship worked because they respected those limits. Not despite them.

Landon got it. Brian got it. They’d never made it weird.

The woman — watched the exchange with slightly narrowed eyes. The same look she’d given him that night. The one that clearly said

who does this guy think he is, too good for a proper greeting?

She thought he was arrogant.

Fair. Most people did and he usually was but not to his boys.

Landon noticed the tension immediately — the boy might be an amateur at basketball and apparently at keeping girlfriends, but he read social dynamics like he’d been born with subtitles installed.

"Phei, uh... that’s my girl,

Cherry

." He tilted his head toward her, obviously proud and still not quite believing his luck. "Cherry, this is Phei. Our

captain

."

"Nice to meet you."

Phei nodded, keeping his tone carefully neutral despite the screaming absurdity of pretending they hadn’t already met, already talked, already formed very

specific

opinions

of each other that were now being diplomatically ignored for the sake of Landon’s

romantic fan-fiction

.

Cherry’s expression flickered — recognition, processing, a lightning-fast calculation behind her eyes as she weighed her options:

make it awkward or roll with the social fiction.

She chose

chaos-adjacent

diplomacy.

A returned nod. A small, perfectly calibrated smile. Then she moved toward the gathered women with the graceful efficiency of someone who had survived worse social minefields.

Maddie, of course, exploded first.

"WAIT. HOLD UP.

LANDON HAS A GIRL

?!" She pointed at Cherry like she’d just discovered a new planet. "

And she’s hot?!

And she’s

here

?! Phei, you absolute chaos gremlin, you brought the whole squad

and

surprise

girlfriends?!

This flight is going to be legendary. I’m already writing the group chat name: ’Harem Plus Plus — Now With Extra Drama.’"

Sierra’s ice-blue eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "You could have given us a heads-up. Some of us like to prepare our resting

murder

faces

in advance."

Delilah leaned in, curves shifting dangerously. "Cherry,

right?

Quick question — on a scale of one to

’Maddie on caffeine,’

how chaotic are you? Because we have standards."

Victoria, ever the aristocrat, tilted her head with regal curiosity. "Darling, if Landon managed to secure you, I must know your secrets."

Melissa folded her arms, smirking. "Ignore them. They’re just jealous they didn’t get dramatic

car

entrances.

Welcome to the circus, Cherry. Try not to get kidnapped by Maddie before takeoff."

Cassiopeia muttered under her breath, loud enough for Phei to hear, "Great. More people to keep alive. My assassination retirement plan is officially canceled."

Phei just stood there, eyes still twitching, watching his carefully balanced world tilt further into

glorious,

unhinged chaos while three

multi-million-dollar

supercars idled behind him like smug mechanical bodyguards.

He sighed.

This was going to be a long flight, and I am going to do everything I can to avoid the chaos... mmh, maybe I will fuck Cassiopeia or a flight attendant while the chaos is happening.