BONDED BY HATE

Heaven's pulse raced as Dylan's grip tightened around her wrist. His presence was suffocating, his closeness sending a shiver down her spine. The night air was cold, but the heat between them was undeniable.

"You can't keep me locked up forever," she repeated, her voice steadier now.

Dylan's smirk remained, but there was something else in his eyes—a flicker of something darker. "And yet, every time you try to run, you end up right back here. With me."

She hated that he was right. Hated the way her body reacted to his touch, how her breath hitched whenever he got too close.

But she wouldn't let him win.

"You don't own me, Dylan," she said, tilting her chin defiantly.

Dylan's grip loosened slightly, his fingers brushing against her skin before he let go entirely. "No?" He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then why do you look at me like you're waiting for something?"

Heaven's breath caught. "I'm not—"

Dylan chuckled, low and knowing. "You keep lying to yourself, kitten. But we both know the truth."

She clenched her fists, frustration bubbling inside her. "The only truth here is that I don't belong in your world."

Dylan's expression shifted—something flickered in his eyes, a shadow of something deeper. "No, you don't," he admitted. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're in it."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Then, just as quickly as the tension had risen, Dylan stepped back. "Let's go."

Heaven hesitated. "Where?"

"Inside." His tone was final.

She had no choice.

But as Dylan led her back toward the mansion, Heaven realized something.

She wasn't just a prisoner in his house.

She was becoming a prisoner in his world.

And the most dangerous part?

She wasn't sure if she wanted to escape anymore.

---

Meanwhile – Richard's Next Move

On the other side of the city, Richard stood in his office, his jaw clenched as he read the report in his hands. The attack on his casino had been a direct declaration of war.

Dylan had struck first.

Richard wouldn't let that go unanswered.

"Prepare the men," he ordered coldly. "Dylan wants a war? Then I'll give him one."

His advisor hesitated. "Sir, Dylan is still stronger—"

Richard's fist slammed against the desk. "I don't care!" His eyes burned with rage. "I've spent my whole life in his shadow. That ends now."

He grabbed his phone, dialing a number.

A deep voice answered. "I was wondering when you'd call."

Richard smirked. "Let's make Dylan suffer."

The war had only just begun.