Phei turned back to Brian and Landon, eyes narrowing like a captain demanding mission reports from two soldiers who had clearly gone rogue.

"So." His gaze flicked between them. "Explain. Now."

Brian sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who had been rehearsing this exact moment the entire car ride over. He’d even begged Landon to drive separately so he could arrive first and seize narrative control like a war criminal claiming the moral high ground.

"Well, this amateur—" He gestured at Landon with theatrical disappointment, the motion dripping with fake mentorship gone tragically wrong. "—somehow managed to lose the girl he pulled at the club."

Landon’s face went full tomato.

"Luckily," Brian continued, savoring every syllable like fine wine aged in embarrassment, "it was right after they had sex and he lost his virginity in what I can only assume was a performance that made the Kama Sutra file for emotional damages."

"BRIAN!" Landon’s voice cracked like a thirteen-year-old hitting puberty mid-sentence. "Was that detail really necessary?!"

Brian tilted his head, stroked his chin, and put on the solemn expression of a philosopher contemplating the heat death of the universe.

"Yes," he concluded gravely. "Yes, it was. Future historians will thank me."

He shrugged. The laugh that followed was pure, unfiltered evil — zero remorse, zero shame, zero recognition that he was live-roasting his best friend’s dignity in front of twenty very entertained witnesses.

"Luckily, he found Cherry on her way home from the same club. One thing led to another." Brian’s hands waved vaguely like he was conducting an invisible rom-com orchestra. "They chatted. Exchanged numbers. Went on a date. That one went surprisingly well. Then another date. Also went well. And then—"

"We’re dating now!" Landon blurted at hyperspeed, practically tackling the conversation to the ground before Brian could drop the uncensored director’s cut. "That’s it! End of story! No further questions, your honor!"

Brian’s grin turned demonic. He kept the interrupted details away for future deployment like a loaded weapon with Landon’s name engraved on it.

Emily, who had drifted closer with the silent grace of a shark smelling fresh blood in the water, shook her head slowly.

"Poor Cherry."

The words landed like a sniper shot to the balls.

Landon’s flush upgraded from embarrassed pink to full nuclear crimson — he was being attacked from an angle he hadn’t even known existed.

"What’s that supposed to mean, Emily?!"

She shrugged, the casual motion of someone who had watched him fail at life since diapers and had developed strong, well-documented opinions.

"We all know you’ll lose her with your incompetence. Get a few lessons from Brian before you fumble someone who has somehow — against all odds, against basic pattern recognition, and against the laws of God and common sense — overlooked your entire personality."

Brian’s laugh exploded like a grenade.

He clapped Landon on the shoulder with benevolent mentor energy that somehow made everything worse. "Don’t worry, Em. The mentorship is progressing beautifully. We’ve covered basic conversation. We’ve covered confidence. Next week we’re tackling ’how to maintain eye contact without looking like you’re having a medical emergency.’ Baby steps."

Landon looked like he was praying the tarmac would open up and yeet him straight into the earth’s molten core. Quick. Merciful. Anything to escape this public execution.

Phei let them suffer for another glorious three seconds — he was benevolent, not soft — before his attention shifted to the third car.

The Pkoenigsegg Jesko sat at the end of the formation, engine still purring like a contented predator, windows tinted to full opacity, its driver conspicuously and suspiciously absent from the reunion happening mere meters away.

"Can anyone tell me why David’s not getting out?"

Landon seized the subject change like a drowning man grabbing a life raft, a rope, and a floating door all at once. "He’s probably livestreaming everything from inside the car. He knows we’d confiscate his live-stream gear if he stepped out here with us. Force him to interact with actual humans using his real face instead of a screen name."

They all shook their heads in perfect, exhausted unison — a synchronized gesture of lifelong acceptance.

David couldn’t be helped. The boy was terminally online in ways that defied medical science, therapy, and basic human evolution. He had millions of followers. Sponsors. A merch line. He had turned "touching grass" into a content category and somehow made it profitable.

"At least David didn’t bring his whole gang," Brian added, silver-lining energy finally creeping into his voice. "Otherwise this entire thing would’ve turned into a content farm. Drone shots. Reaction videos. Thirty-seven different edits of Phei’s face when he saw our cars. Hashtag ’RichBoyProblems.’"

"I would have murdered them all," Phei said calmly, like he was discussing the weather.

"See?" Brian grinned. "This is why we planned ahead. We’re saving lives here."

Phei turned to Brian with a raised eyebrow, pivoting straight into offense. "What about you? Weren’t you supposed to be bringing any of your two women along?"

Yes, Brian had scored another girl to make it tow while Landon still fumbled on getting his real first.

Brian shook his head, smile turning full predatory — he had plans, and he was about to share them whether anyone wanted to hear or not.

"Unlike this overexcited virgin—"

"I am no longer a virgin!" Landon protested, voice cracking again, dignity in absolute shambles.

"— I’m planning to spread my superior genes across the beauties of Hell’s Paradise Island like a benevolent god distributing blessings." Brian spread his arms wide, encompassing the private jet, the tarmac, the gathered crowd of beautiful women, and the entire trip stretching ahead like an all-you-can-eat buffet of romantic possibility.

"My ladies understand. They support the mission. They’ll join me later, once I’ve surveyed the landscape and identified optimal targets." He nodded sagely. "A man needs variety, Phei. Surely you of all people understand this."

He gestured at the assembled harem with both hands, as if presenting Exhibit A in the Court of Supreme Rizz.

Phei laughed, surprised out of him despite his best efforts at maintaining captain-level dignity.

Emily’s palm connected with her own face with an audible slap of pure despair.

"Phei’s presence is starting to get contagious." She pointed at Landon with an accusatory finger, voice heavy with quarantine urgency. "You better not follow their example, or I’m telling your mom."

Landon sputtered. "Are you my sister or some kind of guardian?!"

"I’m your conscience," Emily shot back without missing a beat. "Someone has to be, since you clearly don’t have one of your own. Left to your own devices, you’d become Brian Junior within six months, and then your mother would kill you, and then she’d kill me for not preventing it. I’m not dying for your bad decisions, Landon."

"That’s—that’s not—"

"Am I wrong?"

Landon opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

No words came out.

Brian patted his shoulder sympathetically. "She’s not wrong. Tragically accurate, actually."

The banter continued in swirling eddies of glorious chaos — Maddie inserting herself into the conversation with characteristic nuclear energy, asking Brian invasive questions about his "superior genes" that made even him pause for half a second.

Sierra watching from a careful distance with amusement she was trying (and failing) to hide behind ice-queen composure. Delilah laughing openly, her curves shaking with each giggle. Amber still processing the fact that Phei apparently had an entire team of equally insane friends, her expression suggesting she was recalculating exactly what she’d signed up for.

Yuki had approached David’s Jesko and was now knocking on the window, patient and determined, like a scientist coaxing a rare specimen from its habitat.

But then—

A new sound cut through the noise.

Different from the screaming supercars. Deeper. More refined. The particular purr of British engineering that had spent centuries perfecting the art of understated dominance — of showing up to the supercar party in something that cost twice as much and didn’t need to prove it by being loud.

A Dolls-Royce glided into view.

Black. Immaculate. Moving with the quiet confidence of old money that didn’t need to announce itself because everyone already knew it was coming. The Ashford Family crest gleamed on the front grille — subtle, elegant, devastating in its implications.

The car stopped.

Everyone turned.

Conversations died mid-sentence. Maddie’s interrogation of Brian’s romantic philosophy trailed off. Even Yuki abandoned her attempts to extract David from his streaming cave.

Everyone knew.

Everyone had been waiting.

The Virgin Succubus had arrived.

Phei’s eyes fixed on the vehicle as his mental roster completed itself automatically, years of tactical thinking turning people into positions on a board.

His women were here Melissa, Maddie, Sierra, Delilah, Maya, Patricia Bloom, Valentina, Cassiopeia.

And then his Emily, organizing everything with her tablet clutched like a weapon, close to his family, Sienna and Victoria.

The new additions on the expedition Amber, still looking overwhelmed. Yuki, still trying to get David to emerge.

And then his boys Brian, smirking. Landon, recovering from emotional damage. David, still hiding in his goddamn Jesko.

Cherry — Landon’s unexpected plus-one, navigating unfamiliar waters with surprising grace.

Catrina and Lydia — the core members of the PheiCrush Simps who stood next to Emily, the ones who’d helped her organize this entire expedition, who’d coordinated logistics and handled details and probably hadn’t slept in three days.

All of them here.

All of them waiting.

And now Elena Ashford was about to step onto the tarmac and make everything infinitely more complicated.