When you pulled up to Matt's place, the contrast between the quiet docks and the run-down state of his home hit you hard.

You'd been to a few rough neighborhoods before, but this was different. The house in front of you looked like it had seen better days—years ago.

The paint was peeling in large patches, and the windows were grimy, some cracked and hastily patched up with cardboard.

The lawn was overgrown, littered with debris and forgotten items that hinted at years of neglect.

Matt's face tightened as he parked the car. He hadn't wanted you to see this part of his life—the part he worked so hard to keep hidden behind the bravado.

But you didn't flinch.

You didn't even hesitate as you stepped out of the car, your smile still in place, soft and reassuring.

Chris got out first, casually strolling up to the door. "Home sweet home," he muttered, kicking an old can out of the way as he walked inside.

Matt lingered for a moment, his hand on the door handle, watching you carefully. "It's... not much," he said, almost apologetically, his voice quieter than usual.

You shook your head, stepping closer to him. "I don't care," you said softly, your hand reaching out to take his. "You let me stay here, Matt. That's what matters. Thank you."

His eyes softened, and for a second, you could see the tension leave his body. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before leading you inside.

The inside of the house wasn't much better than the outside. The living room was sparse, with an old couch that had definitely seen better days, a broken coffee table, and a small TV propped up on a stack of books.

There were cracks in the walls, and the faint smell of damp hung in the air. The place felt like it hadn't been properly cleaned or lived in for a long time.

But you didn't care. You were just grateful to be here with Matt, to have a place to stay, and you made sure he knew that.

You were all smiles, hanging onto his arm as you stepped inside, thanking him and Chris for letting you crash there, even though you knew they didn't have much to offer.

It wasn't long before you met Nick—the third brother. You hadn't known Matt was a triplet until now, and the shock was evident on your face when you first laid eyes on him.

Another man was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine, and when he looked up, his expression was so eerily similar to Matt's that you almost did a double-take.

"You're Matt's brother too?" you asked, your voice a little higher in surprise.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Matt with a smirk. "Yeah. Triplets, actually. Didn't he tell you?"

You shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around it. "Nope, didn't mention that. I feel like I should've known." you said, looking over at Matt with a sweet smile.

Matt shot Nick a glare, but you could see the faint smile on his face. "It's not exactly something I go around bragging about."

You laughed lightly, finding the whole situation surreal. "Well, nice to meet you," you said, offering him a warm smile.

Nick gave you a nod, then leaned back, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. "Likewise. So, what's the plan for dinner? I'm starving."He said turning his attention back to Matt.

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze shifting awkwardly. "Uh, there's not much in the kitchen right now. We weren't exactly planning on cooking."

You glanced at Matt, and without missing a beat, you volunteered. "I can make something. Doesn't matter if there's not much—I'll figure something out."

Matt looked at you skeptically, clearly unsure. "There's seriously not a lot," he warned. "Like, maybe some old canned stuff and... well, I'm not even sure what else."

But you just smiled, brushing it off. "Trust me, I can make it work. It'll be fun."

Nick raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Well, if you're up for the challenge, go for it. I'm curious to see what you can pull off."

You wasted no time heading into the kitchen. It was even more rundown than you expected, with cracked tiles and mismatched appliances, but you didn't let it bother you.

You rummaged through the cabinets, finding a few cans of beans, some rice, and a half-empty jar of pasta sauce. You also discovered a couple of old vegetables in the fridge—carrots, a bit wilted, and some onions.

It wasn't much, but you could make it work. Rolling up your sleeves, you got to work chopping and sautéing with whatever you could find.

As you cooked, you could hear Matt and his brothers talking in the living room. Their voices were low, casual, but you could feel the weight of the unspoken tension still hanging in the air.

The situation with Hector loomed large, but for now, it was a quiet moment, a brief reprieve from the chaos.

After a while, the simple smell of the food began to fill the air, and you felt a small sense of accomplishment.

Despite everything, despite the rundown kitchen and the meager ingredients, you were able to create something warm and comforting.

You called out to the guys, letting them know dinner was ready.

They joined you around the tiny kitchen table, which wobbled slightly whenever someone moved. The mismatched chairs scraped against the linoleum floor as they sat down. Nick grinned as he saw the spread you'd managed to put together.

"Well, color me impressed," he said, picking up his fork. "I wasn't expecting much, but this actually looks pretty damn good."

Chris gave an approving nod, already digging into his plate. "Not bad at all, headband girl."

Matt, on the other hand, was quieter. He watched you for a moment before picking up his own fork. His expression was softer, a bit more vulnerable than you were used to seeing.

There was something in his eyes, a mixture of gratitude and disbelief, like he couldn't quite figure out how you were handling all of this so easily.

The dinner was simple, but it filled the small space with a sense of warmth that had been missing.

For a while, it felt like you weren't in the middle of a dangerous game with Hector looming over you. It felt like a normal evening, with laughter and conversation.

Later that night, after the dishes had been cleared and the brothers were lounging in the living room, you found yourself standing at the small, cracked kitchen window, staring out into the dark.

The reality of everything you were facing began to sink in, and despite the calm of the evening, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that clung to you.

Matt stepped into the kitchen quietly, coming up behind you. "Hey," he said softly, his voice low so as not to disturb the others.

You turned to face him, offering a small smile. "Hey."

He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, watching you for a moment. "I know this isn't what you signed up for," he said, his tone apologetic. "I never wanted you to be dragged into this. But I'm glad you're here."

You could see the tension still in his shoulders, the weight he carried trying to keep you safe.

Stepping closer, you placed your hand gently on his arm. "I told you, I'm not scared," you said, your voice soft but steady. "I'm in this with you, Matt. We'll figure it out."

He searched your face, as if trying to gauge just how serious you were.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know how you do it," he muttered. "Stay so calm. Like none of this is getting to you."

You smiled, shrugging. "I guess I'm just good at pretending."

For a moment, there was silence between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Matt's presence beside you felt solid, grounding.

And though the world outside was spiraling into danger, right here, in this small, rundown house, there was a fleeting sense of safety.

Meanwhile, across town, Hector's men gathered in a dimly lit warehouse on the edge of the city.

The room smelled of motor oil and old wood, the distant hum of traffic the only sound outside the creaking of the old building.

Hector stood in the center of the room, a cold smile curling at the edges of his lips as he listened to his men's report.

"So, let me get this straight," Hector said, his voice deceptively calm. "You saw her, the girl, and you're telling me all you remember is... a headband?"

The man in front of him shifted uneasily, swallowing hard. "Y-Yeah, boss. She had this pink headband. But she was with Matt. We're sure of that."

Hector's eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile didn't fade. "A pink headband. And that's all you've got?" His tone was icy now, dangerous.

The man nodded, clearly terrified. "I-I'm sorry, boss. I'll find out more, I swear."

Hector stared at him for a long, tense moment before turning away, his fingers tapping against the edge of a nearby crate. "Don't bother," he said finally, his voice low and calculating. "I already know what I need to know."

He walked slowly across the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence. "This girl, whoever she is, is close to Matt. Close enough that he's bringing her around the docks. And that makes her valuable. When he was here he talked about her. She's his weakness."

The men around him exchanged uneasy glances. They all knew what Hector was capable of when he found something—or someone—valuable.

Hector stopped in front of the large, grimy window, looking out into the night. "She's the key to getting to Matt. And if we can use her..." His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear.

One of his men, bolder than the rest, stepped forward cautiously. "What's the plan, boss?"

Hector didn't turn around, his gaze still fixed on the city skyline. "Find her," he said simply. "Find her and bring her to me. If she's with Matt, we'll have everything we need to finish this."

The men nodded, quickly dispersing to carry out his orders.

Hector smiled to himself, satisfied. Soon, he would have what he wanted, and Matt wouldn't be able to do anything to stop him.

The quiet of Matt's house had a strange way of making the tension in the air heavier.

As you stood there with him in the kitchen, the gravity of Hector's looming threat began to settle in deeper.

The sense of warmth and normalcy from dinner was now a distant memory, replaced by the sharp awareness of the danger closing in.

Matt's hand rested briefly on your shoulder, his touch light but reassuring. "Get some rest," he said, his voice low. "We'll figure out our next move in the morning."

You nodded, though sleep felt like a distant possibility. The weight of what was coming left you unsettled.

But you trusted Matt, and you knew he'd do everything to protect you. Still, there was an edge to his movements, a quiet urgency that told you he was running out of time to find a solution.

Hours later, well past midnight, Matt sat awake in the living room, staring blankly at the dark TV screen.

His mind was racing, thoughts of Hector, his brothers, and you swirling in a storm of uncertainty.

He had promised to protect you, but the truth gnawed at him—he didn't have a plan. Not one that could guarantee everyone's safety.

Chris and Nick had already fallen asleep, their trust in Matt implicit, but Matt knew better.

Hector was ruthless, and if his men were already sniffing around, it wouldn't be long before they made their move.

The soft creak of the floorboards pulled Matt out of his thoughts. He looked up to see you standing at the edge of the room, wrapped in a blanket, your expression concerned.

"Couldn't sleep either?" you asked, stepping toward him.

He shook his head, rubbing his tired eyes. "Too much going on. I can't afford to let my guard down, not with Hector out there."

You sat beside him, the blanket draped over your shoulders. "We'll get through this, Matt. Together. You don't have to carry all of this alone."

Matt sighed, the weight of his responsibility bearing down on him. "I don't want you caught in the crossfire. If Hector gets his hands on you, it's over. He'll use you to get to me, and I can't let that happen."

"I know the risks," you said, your voice steady. "But I'm not leaving you, Matt. We'll find a way out of this. We just have to stay one step ahead of Hector."

Matt stared at you, his mind a mix of admiration and frustration. He wanted to keep you safe, but he knew how persistent Hector could be. And now, with you tied to this mess, everything felt more precarious than ever.

Just then, a sharp knock echoed from the front door.

Matt's eyes widened, and he jumped to his feet, signaling for you to stay back. Chris and Nick stirred from the noise, immediately on high alert.

"Who the hell could that be?" Chris muttered, grabbing a baseball bat from beside the couch.

Matt motioned for his brothers to stay quiet, creeping toward the door. His hand hovered over the handle, but before he could reach it, a voice called out from the other side.

"It's Carlos," the voice said. "We need to talk."

Matt's jaw clenched. Carlos worked for Hector—he was one of Hector's most loyal enforcers. His presence here couldn't mean anything good.

Matt turned to you, his voice a harsh whisper. "Go to the back. Stay out of sight."

You hesitated but nodded, slipping quietly toward the hallway. Chris and Nick stayed close, ready for anything.

Matt opened the door just enough to see Carlos standing outside, his expression unreadable. "What do you want, Carlos?" Matt asked, his tone edged with suspicion.

Carlos raised his hands in a show of peace. "I'm not here to start anything, Matt. Hector sent me with a message."

Matt's grip on the door tightened. "And what message is that?"

Carlos stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Hector knows about the girl. He knows she's with you. He wants her."

Matt's blood ran cold. "He's not getting her."

Carlos sighed, rubbing his temples as if he'd anticipated that response. "Look, Matt, you know how Hector is. He doesn't like loose ends, and right now, that girl is a loose end. He's not going to stop until he has her."

Matt shook his head, his voice firm. "She's not part of this. If Hector has a problem, he deals with me."

Carlos frowned, his patience wearing thin. "You know it's not that simple. Hector sees her as leverage, and if you don't hand her over... he'll come after her. After all of you."

Matt's fists clenched, anger flaring inside him. "You can tell Hector that if he wants a fight, he'll get one."

Carlos took a step back, his expression serious. "I hope you know what you're doing, Matt. Hector doesn't take no for an answer."

With that, Carlos turned and walked back into the shadows, disappearing into the night.

Matt slammed the door shut, his heart pounding. He knew what this meant—Hector was coming, and this time, there would be no backing down.

While Matt was distracted by Carlos at the front door, you quietly made your way toward the back of the house, just as Matt had instructed.

The old wooden floor creaked beneath your feet as you slipped through the narrow hallway. A chill ran down your spine, but you pushed it aside, focusing on staying out of sight.

You found the back door, its rusted hinges barely holding it together. The moonlight filtered through the grimy window, casting eerie shadows across the floor. You paused, listening carefully for any sounds outside, but everything seemed still.

Too still.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for the door handle, pulling it open slowly, trying to avoid making any noise. But the moment the door cracked open, strong hands grabbed you from behind.

You gasped, your heart racing as a cloth was pressed tightly over your mouth and nose. The sharp, pungent smell of chemicals filled your senses, and you struggled, your body reacting on instinct, but it was no use.

Your vision began to blur, the strength leaving your limbs as the world around you tilted. Panic flooded through you as you realized what was happening—you were being kidnapped.

As your consciousness started to fade, you caught a glimpse of two shadowy figures moving around you, their faces obscured by dark hoods.

One of them muttered something into a phone, but the words were muffled, like they were miles away.

Everything was slipping away, the darkness pulling you under.

When you woke, your head throbbed, and your mouth felt dry. You blinked groggily, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of dust and old wood.

You were tied to a chair, your wrists bound tightly behind your back.

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to breathe, to stay calm. You couldn't let fear take over—not now.

The room you were in looked like an abandoned office or warehouse, empty except for a few broken-down crates and a single flickering light overhead.

The walls were covered in graffiti, and the windows were boarded up. Outside, you could hear the distant sounds of traffic, but it felt far away, unreachable.

As your vision cleared, you realized you weren't alone. The man you thought to be Hector stood in the corner, his cold eyes locked on you, a satisfied smile curling his lips.

He was wearing a sharp suit, a contrast to the grimy surroundings, and his presence made the air feel heavier, more dangerous.

"Look who's awake," Hector said, his voice calm but dripping with menace. "Took a little longer than I expected, but here you are."

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your fear in check. "What do you want?" you asked, your voice shaky but defiant.

Hector's smile widened as he took a slow step toward you. "You. For now, at least. You're going to help me get to Matt."

You shook your head, trying to sound braver than you felt. "Matt's not going to let you win. He'll come for me."

Hector chuckled, the sound dark and unsettling. "I'm counting on it."

He crouched down in front of you, his eyes boring into yours. "See, Matt's been a thorn in my side for too long. But now that I've got you, it's only a matter of time before he comes running right into my trap. And when he does..." His smile turned into a sneer. "It'll be over for him. And for you, too."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized the full weight of the situation. Hector wasn't just using you as leverage—he was setting a trap. And Matt, unaware of the danger, would come straight for it.

-

Back at the house, the door slammed shut, and Matt turned to his brothers, his pulse racing. "That was Carlos," he said, his voice low and edged with urgency. "Hector knows about her. He's coming for us."

Chris immediately straightened, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with focused concern. "You think we've got time to move her somewhere safer?"

Matt rubbed his temples, his mind racing. "We need to leave now—" His sentence cut off suddenly, his eyes darting to the hallway where you'd disappeared.

A sinking feeling settled in his gut.

"Wait," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "She should've been back by now."

His heart rate picked up as he moved quickly toward the back of the house, calling for you. "Hey, you good?" His voice echoed through the empty hallway, but there was no response.

Matt's stomach tightened. He reached the back door, noticing it was slightly ajar, the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the crack. Something was wrong.

His instincts screamed at him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on