The tension in the air was palpable. Dylan had tightened security around his estate. Every hallway had a guard, every perimeter monitored. But he knew—when it came to the underworld, peace was just a mask for war waiting to explode.
Inside his underground war room, the table was scattered with surveillance photos, maps, and supply chain charts.
Mason ran a hand through his hair. "They've hit two of our docks already. One of them was in broad daylight. No casualties, but we lost an entire shipment."
Jayden frowned. "They're getting bolder."
"And smarter," Dylan said coldly. "Richard's not acting like the jealous brother anymore. He's acting like a king."
Everyone fell silent at the mention of Richard.
Dylan's jaw tightened. "He's building something bigger. Seth Navarro isn't just his ally—he's his shadow. And shadows are hard to kill."
Mason looked up. "What's the next move?"
Dylan's voice dropped. "We smoke them out. Use bait if we have to. Anyone that turns against us becomes an example."
Jayden hesitated. "And Heaven?"
Dylan paused, then turned away. "She stays out of it."
"But—"
"She stays out of it," he snapped. "This isn't her war."
Yet even as he said it, deep down, Dylan knew: everything he was doing—everything he was protecting—was rooted in her.
—
At the Hideout
Richard studied a map of Dylan's estate, tracing lines with a gloved finger. Seth leaned over the table, his tone as calm as ever.
"You know he's going to expect a direct hit."
"That's why we won't give him one," Richard said. "We hit where it hurts. His allies. His trade. His image."
Seth glanced up. "And the girl?"
Richard's eyes darkened. "She's not to be harmed… yet. But she's his heart. And no king survives a war when his heart is exposed."
—
Back at Dylan's Estate
Heaven walked the halls, her heels echoing against the marble floor. She felt the shift—the tension crawling over every surface. When she reached Dylan's office, she paused before knocking.
"Come in," his voice called.
She stepped inside. "You're not sleeping."
"Neither are you."
He stood by the window, the city lights casting a harsh glow over his features. He looked powerful… and burdened.
"I know you're trying to keep me out of it," she said quietly. "But this affects me too, Dylan."
"I don't want their blood on your hands."
"And I don't want yours on theirs," she said, stepping closer. "I'm not asking to fight your war. But don't shut me out."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then, he exhaled, running a hand down his face. "I've already lost too many people. I won't lose you too."
Heaven reached up and cupped his face. "Then let me be your peace in all this chaos."
He pulled her into a deep embrace. And for a fleeting second, the war outside their walls didn't exist.
—
Somewhere Across the City
Seth stood alone on the rooftop of a derelict building, watching Dylan's estate through binoculars.
"She's his weakness," he murmured.
From the shadows, a figure approached—one of Richard's new informants. "We've confirmed movement. They're sending a transport convoy east tomorrow."
Seth smirked. "Perfect."
He tucked the binoculars away.
"The king bleeds tomorrow."