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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
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 142
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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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
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 144
144Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. The heavy scent of floral perfume mixed with the subtle but unmistakable sting of cold steel. Dylan, still trying to shake off the effects of the blow to his head, was dragged across the polished marble floor by two men who seemed to take particular pleasure in his disorientation. His limbs were sluggish, his mind still clouded by the intense pain that rattled through his skull. But as the world around him began to clear, he could make out the shadows of high-backed chairs, gilded furniture, and velvet curtains that blocked out the moonlight, casting an eerie darkness on the grand room.They stopped before the center of the room, and Dylan could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on him. His pulse quickened. That feeling… her. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, too distinct, too sharp to be mistaken for anything else.“Seraphina…” Dylan muttered under his breath, his voice a mixture of irritation and disdain. His body still felt uncoo
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 145
145 As Seraphina turned back to face him, her eyes glinting with something darker, he couldn’t help but let a smirk play at the corners of his lips. “You know, I’ve never liked the way you think you control everything, Seraphina. It’s one of the things that makes you so… predictable.” Her lips parted as though to speak, but Dylan cut her off, stepping forward with a sudden, fluid motion. He was fast, faster than any of them anticipated. He darted forward, just as one of the men tried to move to intercept him. The man was knocked aside with a single swift punch, landing hard against the marble floor. The other rushed at Dylan, but his opponent’s hesitation was all it took. Dylan ducked, then twisted the man’s arm behind his back before pushing him toward the far wall, knocking him out cold. For the first time, Seraphina’s gaze flickered, a hint of doubt creeping into her expression. “You’re still trying to fight me?” she asked, almost incredulously. Dylan, breathing heavily bu
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146: The Ghosts of the PastHer eyes locked onto his with a glare so intense it felt like it could burn through steel. For a moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze flickering between his eyes and the two men she’d stationed to guard him. They were already recovering, readying themselves for the next round. “Is that so?” Seraphina said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity. “You really think you’re in control? You think you can take me down with a single move? You’ve never been in control, Dylan. Not in this situation. Not with me.” Dylan smirked, his heart pounding. “You’re trapped here, Seraphina. You just don’t see it yet.” The room went deathly silent, the two guards now slowly moving into position behind him, their eyes cold with determination. But Dylan wasn’t going to back down. He could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting. Seraphina gestured to the two men, a sharp motion of her hand. “Get him.” Without hesitation, the guards lunged at him, but this time, Dylan
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 147
147The giant moved.Fast.Too fast for someone his size.Dylan barely had time to react before a fist the size of a sledgehammer came flying toward his face. He ducked—just barely—feeling the force of the air as it passed inches from his head. He pivoted, using the momentum to twist away, but the giant was already on him, closing the distance with terrifying efficiency.Dylan raised his gun.A mistake.The giant swatted it aside like it was nothing, the weapon skidding across the floor.Dylan barely had time to register the loss before a massive hand closed around his throat and lifted him off the ground.Seraphina sighed, her voice carrying that familiar note of exasperation. “You always did have a habit of underestimating your opponents, Dylan.”Dylan gritted his teeth, clawing at the fingers around his neck. His vision blurred at the edges.Think. Move.His knee shot up, slamming into the giant’s ribs. Nothing.Again.Still nothing.Damn.The giant smirked, his massive fingers fle
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Chapter 178: A Father’s OathThe mansion’s heavy front door creaked open, letting in the morning light—and a gust of wind that smelled of ash and distant bloodshed. Dylan held Dolly close, her small arms still wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed to his shoulder.But as they reached the edge of the stone steps, she stiffened in his arms.“Wait,” she whispered, pulling back slightly. “Where are we going?”“Somewhere safe,” Dylan replied softly, adjusting her weight in his arms.“Safe?” Her eyes narrowed. “But who are you?”Dylan froze.“I told you,” he said gently, “I’m your father.”She looked at him long and hard. Her tiny brows furrowed, lips pursed with doubt. “You… you don’t feel like Papa.”His heart cracked a little. “I didn’t know about you, Dolly. Not until tonight. If I had… I would’ve come for you sooner. I swear on your mother’s life.”Dolly blinked, silent for a moment, then asked, “Did Mama really tell you to come?”“Yes.” He crouched down, setting her gently on the
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177Chapter 177: The Search BeginsDylan’s boots thudded against the stairs as he stormed up them two at a time, Seraphina’s blood still drying on his chest like a second heart. His throat burned, but he swallowed the pain. There was no time to mourn. Not now.“Dolly!” he shouted, voice rough and hoarse. “Dolly, if you’re here—please answer me!”The hallway stretched before him, quiet and cloaked in shadows. The scent of old wood and lavender clung to the air—Seraphina’s favorite oil. His hand brushed the wall as he passed a set of closed doors, his mind racing.He threw open the first room.Empty.Just dusty blankets, a cracked mirror, and toys that hadn’t been played with in years.“Dolly!” he yelled again, more desperately this time. “It’s Papa. I’m here. Please—baby, answer me.”His heart thundered. He moved to the next room, nearly ripping the door off its hinges.“Dolly—”Nothing but silence.Then—A faint thump.He froze.It came again.He turned sharply toward the third door.
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176“I forgave you,” she said suddenly, her voice clear for a brief second. “For everything. For the things you did… for what we became. I forgave you a long time ago, Dylan. I just wish you could forgive yourself.” His chest tightened so sharply he could hardly breathe. “You don’t get to say goodbye. Not like this. No. No—stay awake. Don’t close your eyes. I need you. We need you.” “I’m tired,” she whispered. “But listen… the Alliance… it’s burning. They’re tearing it apart because of you.” He flinched, guilt sweeping over him. “I never wanted this war. I built Dragonia to unite our lands, to end bloodshed…” “But you left,” she said, blinking slowly. “You left it behind… and it turned into a battlefield.” He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes wet with grief. “Because I couldn’t face what I lost. Because I was a coward.” “You’re not,” she murmured. “You were always brave. Stubborn… cruel, sometimes. But brave.” “I don’t want to be brave anymore,” he whispered. “I just want you
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175“Please…” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”A long silence stretched between them. The forest around them was too quiet—no birds, no wind, just the rising smoke and the smell of iron and earth.Then—suddenly—her hand caught his wrist.His heart leapt.Her grip, weak but deliberate, made his breath hitch.“…It’s too late,” she whispered, a faint smile pulling at her cracked lips.“No. No, it’s not.” His voice was thick with tears as he shook his head. “I’ve got you, I can—”“You can’t.” Her voice was softer than a breeze, fragile and final. “Not this time. Dylan…”His jaw clenched. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not dying, do you hear me? You’re not—!”She squeezed his hand, surprising him with a flicker of strength. “Listen to me. There’s something I never told you…”His heart pounded violently against his ribs. “What?”“Our daughter.”She coughed, blood spilling from the corner of her lips, staining the side of her chin.“Her name… is Dolly.”Dylan froze.“What…?” His voice cracked.
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Chapter 174 Dylan’s hands trembled violently as he knelt beside Seraphina’s broken body. Panic surged through him like wildfire, fast and merciless, as he stared at the blood soaking her clothes. It pooled beneath her like a cruel mockery of life, staining everything it touched a deep, damning red. Her lips were pale. Her breath was shallow. But he wasn’t giving up. Not now. Not like this. “I know what to do,” he muttered under his breath, barely hearing himself over the roar of his heartbeat. “I can save you. I can fix this, Seraphina.” Her lashes fluttered. A small, pained groan escaped her lips. Dylan yanked the pouch off his belt—the one he hadn’t touched in years, the one covered in old leather and tied with fraying string. His fingers shook as he undid the knot, revealing a weathered collection of dried herbs, crushed roots, and dusty vials—everything he had once learned from the old masters in the Eastern Mountains. He swallowed hard. Manwa medicine. Ancestral craft. No
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173The brick came down hard.Once.Twice.The thug’s skull cracked under the force, blood spraying with each blow. His body spasmed, twitched violently, then stilled.Silence.Dylan stood over the body, chest heaving, blood smeared down his arms and soaking into his jeans. His fingers, still clenched around the brick, trembled uncontrollably. The weight of what he’d done—what he had to do—settled like a stone in his stomach.He staggered back a step.And then he heard it.A soft, broken whimper behind him.“Dylan…”His heart seized. The brick dropped from his hand with a dull, wet thud. He turned.Seraphina lay crumpled against the wall, her face bruised and streaked with blood. Her hand trembled in the air, reaching for him. Her eyes, barely open, shimmered with unshed tears.He dropped to his knees beside her. “I’m here,” he breathed, wiping at his face with a shaking hand. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.”Her voice was a rasp. “You’re bleeding…”Dylan looked down. His forearms were
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172 Her body jerked in the air like a puppet cut from its strings. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, and then she fell—crumpling into Dylan’s arms, dead weight, blood already soaking through his shirt. “Seraphina—Seraphina! No, no, stay with me!” Dylan’s voice cracked as he lowered her to the ground, cupping her face, her bloodied hair clinging to his fingers. She gasped, just once. Her lips trembled. “Told… you not… to be a hero…” “Shut up,” Dylan choked, blinking rapidly. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not leaving me. You hear me? I won’t let you.” Behind them, the man snarled in frustration. “You stupid bitch! You ruined it! You ruined everything!” He raised the gun again, eyes wild. But Dylan wasn’t finished. He laid Seraphina down gently, the look in his eyes shifting—no longer just pain. Now, fury burned through him like fire through dry grass. He lifted his rifle with one hand, the other still clenched around Seraphina’s, and aimed. This time, he didn’t hesitate. Bang.
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171 Dylan’s mind spun, thoughts crashing like waves in a storm. His back pressed against the cold concrete wall, breath coming in shallow bursts as adrenaline surged through his veins. His eyes flicked desperately between the grimy floor, the cracked ceiling, the flickering lights—anywhere, anywhere he could find an advantage. But all he saw was Seraphina, trembling and cornered, with a pistol pressed against her temple. The bastard holding her hostage—tall, grimy, scarred from a hundred bad choices—grinned like a wolf that had cornered a lamb. The barrel of his gun gleamed under the flickering light, and his finger never left the trigger. “Aww, look at you,” the man sneered, voice slick with mockery. “All that muscle, all that training—decorated hero, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue. “But none of that means jack now, does it?” “Let her go,” Dylan said through clenched teeth. “You want someone to use as leverage? Use me. Just let her go.” The man laughed—low, condescending. “Oh
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170Dylan’s heart thundered in his chest as he rounded the next corner, his breath ragged from the adrenaline coursing through him. He was close, so close. But the sight before him stopped him cold.Seraphina.She was backed into a corner of the hallway, her small frame pressed up against the cold, crumbling wall. A large, imposing man stood in front of her, gripping her arm with a twisted smile on his face. His eyes gleamed with malice. He didn’t look like one of the ordinary goons. This was the leader. The one who was calling the shots.Dylan’s blood boiled as he saw Seraphina’s terrified eyes flick to him, pleading silently for help. His hand tightened around the rifle. He needed to move, but the thug’s words rang out like a shot in the dark.“One step closer, and she dies,” the man sneered, his gun aimed directly at Seraphina’s head.Dylan froze, his grip on the rifle tightening as he weighed his options. Every instinct told him to charge, to take the bastard down without thinking
