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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
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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
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
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 139
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
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 140
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
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 141
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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192A man barked orders from the catwalk above, his voice crackling through a cheap loudspeaker.“Give it up, Dylan!” the voice jeered. “You’re too late! You’ll never find her!”Dylan stiffened, muscles tensing. He knew that voice—Roth. One of Dragonia’s former enforcers. Brutal, loyal to the highest bidder. It figured he would be working for whoever had taken Molly.He swept his eyes over the warehouse—metal crates, old machinery, dark pools of oil soaking the concrete. It was too open. Too exposed.“Figures it’d be Roth,” Lilith muttered from her cover behind a stack of barrels, exchanging fire with a guard perched behind a forklift. She caught Dylan’s eye and gave a grim nod. “You got a plan?”“Yeah.” Dylan ducked as a bullet whined past. “Smoke.”Lilith didn’t hesitate. She ripped a small canister from inside her jacket, yanked the pin with her teeth, and lobbed it toward the center of the warehouse.The canister exploded with a loud pop, flooding the air with a choking cloud of w
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191They moved quickly, Dylan checking the old safe hidden beneath the desk. He pulled out two pistols, tossing one to Lilith without hesitation. She caught it easily, checking the magazine like a pro.“Not your first gunfight?” Dylan asked, raising an eyebrow.Lilith shrugged. “You pick up a few things living in the gutter.”Dylan loaded his weapon, tucking it under his jacket. His mind was cold and sharp now, all hesitation burned away. If Molly was in that warehouse, he was bringing her home. No matter the cost.They slipped out into the night, the rain still pounding the city in relentless sheets. Dylan led the way through the maze of alleys, sticking to the shadows. Lilith stayed close, matching his movements with surprising fluidity.When they reached Dylan’s car—a battered black Charger parked in a shadowed corner—he slid behind the wheel, and Lilith jumped into the passenger seat.As they drove, Lilith broke the silence. “You think it’s a trap?”“Of course it’s a trap,” Dylan
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190Lilith shifted uneasily by the door, her fingers tapping against the cracked frame. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on. She watched Dylan move to the old desk, rifling through a drawer until he pulled out a battered phone.“So, uh…” Lilith began, her voice tentative, “have you thought about calling the police? I mean, they’re supposed to deal with kidnappings, right?”Dylan froze for a moment before slowly straightening up. His eyes locked onto hers, hard and cold. “No.”Lilith blinked. “No?”He shook his head once, firm. “Bringing the police into this would be the worst move I could make. If they even catch a whiff of Molly, whoever took her will know we’re onto them. She’ll disappear into a deeper hole—or worse.”“But—” Lilith started to argue, then stopped when she saw the raw fear in his expression, the kind that didn’t come from distrust of law enforcement, but from experience. Dylan wasn’t guessing. He knew.“You have to trust me,” Dylan said quietly. “This
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189The rain hadn’t let up as they made their way through the back alleys, the city’s dim glow flickering against the wet pavement. Dylan kept his senses sharp, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. They couldn’t afford to relax—not yet. The ambush had been too close, and the mention of the Black Mantle made things even more complicated.Lilith stayed close, her footsteps light despite the wet ground. She was quiet, her usual sarcasm absent for the moment. They didn’t stop until they reached a rusted metal door, tucked away behind a decaying warehouse. Dylan knocked twice, the sound sharp against the silence, and the door creaked open.“Mr. Nelson’s place,” he muttered, pulling Lilith inside.The inside of the building was dim, lit only by the faint hum of old fluorescents. It smelled like oil and dust. Dylan wasted no time, heading straight for a back room. Lilith followed, her curiosity piqued despite herself.Once inside, Dylan locked the door and leaned against the cracked wal
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188They barely made it three steps toward the Dustline when the first shot cracked through the rain.Dylan yanked Lilith down behind a stack of broken crates just as a plasma bolt scorched the air where his head had been. Splinters and steam exploded around them.“Ambush!” Lilith shouted, drawing her sidearm.“No kidding!” Dylan snapped back, already scanning for shooters.Three figures in dark tactical gear dropped from the rooftops, their movements too precise to be street thugs. They were Reavers—or trained like them. Their visors glowed a sickly green, marking targets even through the downpour.“They’re not here to ask questions,” Lilith said grimly.“No,” Dylan agreed, a grim set to his jaw. “They’re here to bag me.”He pushed her toward a side alley. “Split up. I’ll draw them off—”“Not a chance,” she hissed, but he was already moving, a blur through the rain.The first attacker lunged, swinging a stun baton crackling with electricity. Dylan sidestepped cleanly, grabbing the ma
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187Dylan didn’t answer—not right away.He tore around the corner with Lilith on his heels, boots slapping against the wet stone, the scent of ozone still trailing after them like a storm cloud. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes hard with something between fear and fury.“Dylan!” Lilith shouted again, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him to a stop behind a rusted iron gate. Rainwater dripped from her coat. “Talk to me. Who the hell was that?!”He exhaled slowly, chest rising and falling. His eyes darted past her, scanning the alley. “His name’s Veyr.”Lilith’s brow furrowed. “Veyr? That supposed to ring a bell?”“It should.” He wiped blood from a shallow cut across his cheek with the back of his wrist. “He’s not just anyone. He’s a Reaver.”Her eyes widened slightly. “Wait. Reavers? As in those Reavers? You mean those ghost-story assassins we used to joke about during rook rotations?”He nodded grimly. “They were never just stories. I saw one of them tear through an entire outpost onc
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186The distant wail of sirens echoed across the cobbled streets, bouncing between ancient stone buildings like the cry of a hunting pack. The scent of smoke and gunpowder lingered in the air—sharp, metallic, and wrong.Lilith’s lips curled into a smirk as she slid a fresh blade into her wrist sheath. “Well, that’s our cue. Watch is on the way. Time to vanish?”Dylan didn’t answer.He stood completely still, his brow furrowed, eyes locked on the shadowed rooftop where the glint had first appeared—too slow to be a scope, too deliberate to be a mistake. His hand hovered near the grip of his sidearm.“Dylan?” Lilith prompted, stepping closer.He held up one hand, silencing her.“There was a sixth,” he said, voice low and hard.Lilith blinked. “What?”“There was a sixth,” he repeated, scanning the rooftops. “The whistle. It was a signal. Five came at us—but six heartbeats were watching.”“Are you sure?” she asked, suddenly serious.He nodded once. “Positive. I felt it. The sixth didn’t en
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185Outside the Tavern — Moments LaterThe night air hit like a wave—cool, quiet, and heavy with everything that just happened. The door creaked shut behind them, muffling the tavern’s buzz, but it didn’t stop the whispers from bleeding through the cracks. Dylan and Lilith stood under the flickering lantern light, its soft hum the only sound for a heartbeat.Lilith adjusted the collar of her coat, eyes gleaming. “You do realize half the underworld just peed their pants in there, right?”Dylan didn’t answer. She tilted her head, watching him with mild amusement. “So, what now? You just embarrassed the most feared crime boss in the city. He might’ve backed down tonight, but Goliath’s pride? That doesn’t bleed—it explodes.” Just then, a whistle sliced through the silence.Dylan’s head turned slightly, just enough to catch the glint of movement from the rooftop across the street. He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.Lilith’s smile faded. “Snipers.”The hiss of a bolt echoed—thunk!—as it embe
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Ron coughed, blood spattering the wooden floor as Dylan Grenville pressed him hard against the tavern wall. His suit was torn, face swollen from the hits, and the cold steel of Dylan’s gaze was more suffocating than the grip around his collar.“You’re making a mistake,” Ron rasped, spitting blood to the side. “You think I’m the end of the line? You’ve just made an enemy you can’t handle. My boss—he’s Goliath. You hear me? Goliath. The man who eats corpses for breakfast.”That name echoed like a thunderclap.Chairs scraped.A drunk at the bar nearly dropped his mug. “Did… did he say Goliath?”A bald man near the hearth froze mid-laugh. “No damn way. You mean that Goliath?”From the shadows, someone muttered, “The one who blew up an entire casino over a poker insult?”The barmaid behind the counter dropped a glass, shards scattering. “I heard he skinned a man just for calling him ‘big guy.’”A grizzled patron in a tattered coat leaned over his shot. “Burned down three blocks just ‘cause
