The sound of clashing steel echoed through the chamber as Dylan's blade met Richard's in a violent clash. Yes—blades now. Guns had been knocked away in the chaos of their duel. Sweat dripped from their brows, blood already staining both of their shirts, but neither man stopped. Neither man yielded.
"You were always the favorite," Richard growled, swinging fiercely.
Dylan blocked and countered with precision. "That wasn't my fault. Grandfather made his choice."
Richard's eyes flared. "And you never once thought to reject it? To hand me what was mine?"
"I earned everything I have," Dylan spat, slashing at his brother's side.
Richard staggered back but recovered quickly, eyes narrowed with hate. "You were born of a whore and still got the empire. What does that say about this cursed bloodline?"
"It says I'm the only one worthy of it," Dylan growled.
The two lunged at each other again. The chamber echoed with the fury of blood, metal, and legacy torn apart.
—
Meanwhile – Dylan's Estate
Heaven paced back and forth, her hands clenched at her sides. Her instincts screamed at her that something was wrong—terribly wrong.
She hadn't stopped thinking about Dylan. The way he touched her. The way he looked at her, as if she was more than just a pawn in his cold empire.
Martha tried to calm her, but Heaven's heart was pounding too fast.
"I should've stopped him," Heaven muttered.
"You couldn't have," Martha said gently. "This is his burden to end. No one else's."
"But what if—what if he doesn't make it out alive?"
Martha paused. "Then don't let him leave without knowing how you truly feel."
Heaven stilled.
Did she love him?
Or was it just the danger, the protectiveness, the raw passion?
She didn't know yet. But she knew one thing for sure: she couldn't lose him. Not like this.
—
Back in the chamber…
Richard collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as blood seeped from a wound in his shoulder. Dylan stood over him, breathing hard, his shirt soaked in blood, his expression unreadable.
Richard laughed bitterly. "Do it. Finish it. Be the monster everyone says you are."
Dylan raised the blade... then hesitated.
His hands trembled.
"You're not worth my rage," Dylan finally said, throwing the blade down beside his brother. "Stay down. If I see you rise again... I won't hesitate next time."
Richard's grin faded as Dylan turned his back and walked away.
But deep inside, Dylan knew… this wasn't over.
—
Later That Night
Dylan stepped into his estate, wounds patched, eyes dark and tired.
Heaven rushed to him the moment she saw him. "Dylan!"
He barely reacted before she threw her arms around him, gripping him tightly. "You're bleeding—oh God—are you okay?"
Dylan stood frozen for a second… then slowly wrapped his arms around her.
"I'm fine," he whispered into her hair. "It's over… for now."
Heaven pulled back, her eyes glassy with emotion. "You could've died."
"I didn't," he said, his voice low, "because I had something—someone—worth coming back to."
Their eyes locked.
The air shifted.
And for the first time… there was no hate. Only heat.
Only truth.
Only them.