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Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 131
130 Dylan watched Olivia as she hesitated at her mansion’s entrance. The dim glow of the streetlights softened her features, but he could still see the concern lingering in her eyes. “Thanks again,” she said quietly. “For everything. For the dinner… and for saving my sister’s life.” Dylan waved a dismissive hand, his usual smirk in place. “Don’t mention it.” She studied him for a second, as if trying to figure him out, but eventually just nodded. “Good night, Dylan.” “Night, Olivia,” he replied before stepping back into his car. As soon as he drove off, his easygoing expression vanished. His mind was already shifting to something else, something darker. There was something about the way Bobby had reacted tonight that didn’t sit right with him. That level of anger didn’t just disappear—it festered. And festering anger usually led to stupid decisions. Dylan reached his villa in less than twenty minutes, but the moment he turned into his driveway, a deep sense of unease settled in
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 132
128 The air outside the restaurant was thick with tension, but Dylan barely seemed to notice. He and Olivia strolled down the pavement, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk. Olivia glanced over her shoulder, her brows slightly furrowed as she took in Bobby and Jane’s expressions—shock, confusion, maybe even fear. “You really have a way of making enemies,” she murmured, though this time, her tone held something new. Uncertainty. Because she had thought she knew Dylan—rich, sure, but not this. Not the kind of power that left people like Bobby and Jane speechless. Dylan smirked. “It’s a gift.” Behind them, Bobby finally seemed to snap out of his stunned silence. His face was still burning with humiliation, but now, beneath the rage, there was something else—doubt. “You think this is over?” he hissed, but his voice wasn’t as strong as before. Dylan didn’t even bother turning around. “You keep saying that, Bobby, but the funny thing is… it kinda feels over.” Olivia
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 133
128 The air outside the restaurant was thick with tension, but Dylan barely seemed to notice. He and Olivia strolled down the pavement, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the sidewalk. Olivia glanced over her shoulder, her brows slightly furrowed as she took in Bobby and Jane’s expressions—shock, confusion, maybe even fear. “You really have a way of making enemies,” she murmured, though this time, her tone held something new. Uncertainty. Because she had thought she knew Dylan—rich, sure, but not this. Not the kind of power that left people like Bobby and Jane speechless. Dylan smirked. “It’s a gift.” Behind them, Bobby finally seemed to snap out of his stunned silence. His face was still burning with humiliation, but now, beneath the rage, there was something else—doubt. “You think this is over?” he hissed, but his voice wasn’t as strong as before. Dylan didn’t even bother turning around. “You keep saying that, Bobby, but the funny thing is… it kinda feels over.” Olivia
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 134
134Dylan stepped over the shattered remnants of his front door, his boots crunching against the broken glass scattered across the floor. The place was a wreck—furniture overturned, papers strewn everywhere, as if someone had deliberately torn through his home in search of something. His jaw clenched, muscles taut with fury as his eyes swept the room. There had to be a clue. Something. Anything.His feet carried him down the hall, straight to her room. The air was thick with dust and lingering perfume, a cruel reminder that she had once been here. His gaze locked onto the desk, where a single red envelope sat neatly, untouched amid the chaos.Dylan’s breath hitched. That emblem. The wax seal bore the unmistakable mark of Victor Castellano.With steady hands, he broke the seal and unfolded the message inside. His eyes skimmed over the words, each letter twisting the knife deeper into his gut.“You shouldn’t have come back. She is safe… for now.”His fingers tightened around the note, c
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 135
135: The Hunter’s ReturnDylan didn’t make his move right away. He was patient. Watching. Waiting.Victor Castellano sat in the center of his entourage, laughing as if he owned the world. He swirled whiskey in his glass, his rings glinting under the dim casino lights. Every so often, he shot a smug glance across the room, completely unaware that someone was hunting him.Dylan knew better.For nearly an hour, he tracked Victor’s movements. Every sip of whiskey. Every nod to his men. Every flicker of arrogance in his expression.A waiter approached Victor’s table with a fresh bottle, and Victor clinked his glass against the rim before pouring himself another drink. His right-hand man, a burly guy with a scar across his cheek, leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Victor listened, then chuckled, knocking back his drink in one smooth motion.Dylan’s fingers curled into fists. It was time.Victor stretched, cracked his neck, and murmured something to his men before sauntering toward t
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 136
136: Seraphina’s BetrayalThe door behind them splintered as bullets tore through the wood. The deafening blasts sent panicked screams rippling through the casino.Dylan reacted instantly, shoving Victor down and flipping the table for cover just as another hail of bullets shredded the air above them.Shouts and terrified cries filled the air.“Oh my God! They’re shooting!”“Get down! Somebody help!”“What the hell is happening? This is a casino, not a war zone!”Guests ducked beneath tables, some sobbing, others frozen in shock. The roulette wheel spun idly, chips scattered across the floor, forgotten in the chaos. Dealers had long abandoned their stations, diving for cover alongside their customers.A man in a suit clutched his bleeding arm, wailing, “I’ve been shot! Someone call an ambulance!”“They’ve got guns! Who are they after?”Then, cutting through the hysteria, came something that made Dylan’s blood run cold.“Dylan Grenville!”The voice rang out over the chaos, clear and de
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 137
137: The Hunt BeginsBut no.Not yet.Dylan’s grip on the knife tightened for a split second before he pulled it away, stepping back. His eyes, dark and unforgiving, stayed locked on Victor.“If I find out you lied to me,” Dylan said, his voice calm but carrying a lethal edge, “I’ll come back. And I won’t be this merciful.”Victor grinned, teeth gleaming under the dim light. “I look forward to it.”Dylan didn’t give him another second. He turned on his heel, disappearing into the night.His hunt wasn’t over.It had just begun.Dylan stormed down the alley, his pulse hammering in his skull. His breaths were sharp, measured—but inside, a storm raged. His fingers shook as he yanked his phone from his pocket, the screen smudged with sweat and dirt.He didn’t hesitate. He dialed.The line rang twice before Ezra picked up.“Boss?”Dylan didn’t waste time. “Track Seraphina.”Ezra paused. “Wait—Seraphina? As in your ex?”Dylan’s jaw locked. “Yes, Ezra. Track her. Now.”Another pause, longer t
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 138
138Dylan stormed through the dark alley, the cold night air doing little to soothe the boiling fury churning inside him. The world felt wrong, like everything was shifting beneath him. Betrayal hung in the air, suffocating him. His phone, clutched tightly in his hand, seemed almost like a lifeline, a tether to whatever thread of control he still had left.His thumb swiped across the screen, and he dialed Martin’s number without hesitation. He needed answers. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his chest tightened as the phone rang. Once. Twice. A third time.Then finally, the call connected, and Dylan’s blood ran cold at the sound of Martin’s voice.“Yeah?” Martin answered, a slight edge to his voice, but nothing that hinted at the urgency in Dylan’s heart.Dylan’s grip on the phone tightened to the point of pain, his knuckles white. “You better have a damn good explanation, Martin.”There was a brief silence on the other end. Dylan could hear the faint sound of shuffling—like Martin
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143The remaining three attackers were now visibly shaken, their movements hesitant as they exchanged worried glances. The biggest of them all—a broad-shouldered man with a scar down his cheek—stepped forward, glaring at Dylan with a mix of hatred and disbelief.“You’re not getting out of here alive,” the scarred man growled, his voice low and threatening.Dylan tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “I beg to differ.”Without warning, one of the men bolted, clearly hoping to escape and warn Seraphina. But Dylan was faster. His reflexes were lightning-quick, and with a sharp motion, he reached for a knife at his belt, throwing it with deadly accuracy. The blade buried itself deep into the man’s shoulder. He screamed in pain, the sound echoing through the courtyard, and collapsed to the ground.Dylan turned his attention to the remaining three men, who now looked more like cornered animals than warriors. They were hesitating, clearly unsure of what to do next. The blood in their v
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142Two men came at him with knives, their eyes narrowing as they rushed forward, blades gleaming under the dim courtyard lights. Dylan didn’t flinch. His posture remained relaxed, almost too calm for someone in the middle of a fight. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips.“Really? Knives?” he asked, almost bored. “Is this supposed to be intimidating?”The two attackers exchanged a quick glance, confusion flickering in their eyes. They clearly underestimated him.With the fluidity of a dancer, Dylan sidestepped the first man’s thrust, his movements smooth and precise. His foot swept low, taking the man’s feet out from under him. The man crashed to the ground, the knife clattering uselessly across the floor. Dylan stood over him, hands in his pockets, completely unfazed.“Oh, that had to hurt,” Dylan remarked, eyeing the man’s twisted leg with mock sympathy. “Should’ve stretched before this. But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll walk it off.”The second man lunged at him, but Dy
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141Dylan stood in the middle of the courtyard, a smug grin on his face, as the twenty men surrounding him slowly closed in. The air was thick with tension, the kind that promised violence. But Dylan didn’t seem phased. He straightened his cuffs, smoothed the sleeves of his shirt, and took a slow, deliberate glance at each of them.“Gentlemen,” he drawled, his voice laced with sarcasm, “are we really doing this?”One of the brutes, a towering figure with a scar running down his face, stepped forward. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white from the grip. “You’re dead, pretty boy,” he growled, his voice full of venom.Dylan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look impressed. “Dead?” He raised an eyebrow. “I must be doing something wrong, then. Because I’m still very much alive.”The brute’s face contorted with rage, his lips curling into a snarl. “You won’t be for long.”Dylan shrugged, unfazed. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” His tone was bored, as if he were having a conversation wit
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140: The Waiting TrapThe night air clung to Dylan like a second skin as he approached the massive estate. The towering iron gates loomed before him, their intricate designs casting eerie shadows in the dim light. Beyond them, the house stood still. Silent. Too silent.Something was wrong.No guards. No movement. Not even the flicker of a light inside. This was not the setup Dylan had anticipated. He’d been expecting a fight—gunmen, guards, or at least a few hidden cameras—but all he got was silence. A silence so thick, it felt like it was pressing down on him, suffocating him with the weight of something sinister.Ezra’s warning echoed in his mind.“She’s waiting for you, Grenville. Don’t be an idiot—it’s a trap.”Dylan had known that before Ezra even said it. Seraphina was many things—vindictive, calculating, ruthless—but careless wasn’t one of them. And leaving her home unguarded? That wasn’t just careless.It was an invitation.A taunt.He sighed, rolling his shoulders, loosening
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139Grenville’s VengeanceDylan stood motionless for a moment, staring at the darkened screen of his phone. His heart pounded against his ribs, and his breath came slow and controlled, but his thoughts were anything but calm.Martin’s words echoed in his head.“This is bigger than you think.”Damn it.Dylan was no fool. He knew Martin better than most—knew his tells, his habits, the subtle shifts in his voice when he was hiding something. And Martin was definitely hiding something. Whether it was out of fear or something else entirely, Dylan didn’t know.But he’d find out.Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he scanned the alley for any sign of movement. The city hummed around him—distant sirens wailing, the occasional flicker of headlights illuminating the wet pavement. Shadows stretched along the brick walls, making the air feel heavier, charged with tension.His instincts screamed at him.Something was wrong.If Martin hadn’t betrayed him, then someone else had. And whoever it
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138Dylan stormed through the dark alley, the cold night air doing little to soothe the boiling fury churning inside him. The world felt wrong, like everything was shifting beneath him. Betrayal hung in the air, suffocating him. His phone, clutched tightly in his hand, seemed almost like a lifeline, a tether to whatever thread of control he still had left.His thumb swiped across the screen, and he dialed Martin’s number without hesitation. He needed answers. His pulse pounded in his ears, and his chest tightened as the phone rang. Once. Twice. A third time.Then finally, the call connected, and Dylan’s blood ran cold at the sound of Martin’s voice.“Yeah?” Martin answered, a slight edge to his voice, but nothing that hinted at the urgency in Dylan’s heart.Dylan’s grip on the phone tightened to the point of pain, his knuckles white. “You better have a damn good explanation, Martin.”There was a brief silence on the other end. Dylan could hear the faint sound of shuffling—like Martin
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137: The Hunt BeginsBut no.Not yet.Dylan’s grip on the knife tightened for a split second before he pulled it away, stepping back. His eyes, dark and unforgiving, stayed locked on Victor.“If I find out you lied to me,” Dylan said, his voice calm but carrying a lethal edge, “I’ll come back. And I won’t be this merciful.”Victor grinned, teeth gleaming under the dim light. “I look forward to it.”Dylan didn’t give him another second. He turned on his heel, disappearing into the night.His hunt wasn’t over.It had just begun.Dylan stormed down the alley, his pulse hammering in his skull. His breaths were sharp, measured—but inside, a storm raged. His fingers shook as he yanked his phone from his pocket, the screen smudged with sweat and dirt.He didn’t hesitate. He dialed.The line rang twice before Ezra picked up.“Boss?”Dylan didn’t waste time. “Track Seraphina.”Ezra paused. “Wait—Seraphina? As in your ex?”Dylan’s jaw locked. “Yes, Ezra. Track her. Now.”Another pause, longer t
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136: Seraphina’s BetrayalThe door behind them splintered as bullets tore through the wood. The deafening blasts sent panicked screams rippling through the casino.Dylan reacted instantly, shoving Victor down and flipping the table for cover just as another hail of bullets shredded the air above them.Shouts and terrified cries filled the air.“Oh my God! They’re shooting!”“Get down! Somebody help!”“What the hell is happening? This is a casino, not a war zone!”Guests ducked beneath tables, some sobbing, others frozen in shock. The roulette wheel spun idly, chips scattered across the floor, forgotten in the chaos. Dealers had long abandoned their stations, diving for cover alongside their customers.A man in a suit clutched his bleeding arm, wailing, “I’ve been shot! Someone call an ambulance!”“They’ve got guns! Who are they after?”Then, cutting through the hysteria, came something that made Dylan’s blood run cold.“Dylan Grenville!”The voice rang out over the chaos, clear and de
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135: The Hunter’s ReturnDylan didn’t make his move right away. He was patient. Watching. Waiting.Victor Castellano sat in the center of his entourage, laughing as if he owned the world. He swirled whiskey in his glass, his rings glinting under the dim casino lights. Every so often, he shot a smug glance across the room, completely unaware that someone was hunting him.Dylan knew better.For nearly an hour, he tracked Victor’s movements. Every sip of whiskey. Every nod to his men. Every flicker of arrogance in his expression.A waiter approached Victor’s table with a fresh bottle, and Victor clinked his glass against the rim before pouring himself another drink. His right-hand man, a burly guy with a scar across his cheek, leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Victor listened, then chuckled, knocking back his drink in one smooth motion.Dylan’s fingers curled into fists. It was time.Victor stretched, cracked his neck, and murmured something to his men before sauntering toward t
