BONDED BY HATE

Far from the comfort of Dylan's estate, beneath a crumbling cathedral hidden within the city's underbelly, Richard sat on a throne forged from shadows and steel. The candlelight flickered across his face, casting twisted shapes on the wall behind him. He leaned forward, one elbow resting on his knee, a wicked smile tugging at his lips.

"Dylan thinks he's won," Richard murmured.

Standing before him was Marcus—his most trusted right-hand man, a former mercenary with a mind as sharp as a dagger. "The boy's back in Dylan's custody. They've strengthened their security. The guards now operate in shifts, surveillance is doubled. We're losing our window, Richard."

Richard chuckled low. "We don't need a window when we're about to blow the entire house down."

He walked over to a board filled with red strings, pictures, and files. At the center was a large, dark-tinted photo of Dylan Martin. "He took everything from me. He was the bastard child—unworthy. Yet Grandfather gave him everything, just because of some twisted obsession with strength. But what Dylan doesn't know is… I've been rebuilding something he never saw coming."

He flicked a switch on the wall. A hidden screen lit up, revealing underground labs, weapons crates, and data servers. "We've hacked into two of his satellite streams. In a few more days, we'll have access to his internal files—locations, personnel, even financial transfers. The foundations of his empire will crumble from beneath him."

Marcus folded his arms. "And the girl?"

Richard's eyes narrowed slightly, a shadow crossing his face. "She's the crack in his armor. He doesn't realize it yet. But she's more than just leverage—she's change. And Dylan doesn't deal well with change."

He turned away, walking toward the open cathedral window. The moonlight glowed faintly against the glass. "Prepare the others. I want chaos at every turn. We'll set fires, steal intel, ruin alliances. Make them question everything. We won't attack the fortress…"

Marcus tilted his head. "Then what?"

Richard smiled darkly. "We'll turn his empire against him."

---

Back at Dylan's Estate – Study Room

Dylan sat in his dimly lit study, staring at the fire dancing in the hearth. He had barely touched the glass of bourbon in his hand. A knock came at the door.

"Come in," he said, voice low.

Heaven entered, her eyes a mixture of worry and defiance.

"I can't sleep," she admitted softly.

"Is Noah okay?"

"He's better," she said, sitting across from him. "But I'm not here about him. I'm here about you."

Dylan raised an eyebrow.

"You've been different," she said. "Since you brought Noah back. You've changed."

Dylan looked into the flames. "People don't change. They just remember who they used to be… before life broke them."

Heaven stood. "Maybe. But some people are worth remembering for."

He didn't reply. But her words echoed in the silence after she left.

And in that moment, as the shadows flickered across his face, Dylan Martin knew the war ahead would cost him more than blood.

It might cost him her.