The night was thick with tension. Clouds blanketed the moon, casting a suffocating darkness over the forest surrounding the safehouse. Inside, the atmosphere was no lighter.
Heaven sat beside Michael again, gently humming a lullaby their mother used to sing. Her voice was soft and warm, even as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She glanced at the door every now and then, the thought of Richard finding them sending chills down her spine.
Dylan paced silently by the window, phone to his ear.
"Status?" he said lowly.
"We took out one of their trackers," Jayden's voice crackled over the line. "But Richard has more eyes in the city than we expected. You'll need to move soon."
Dylan's jaw clenched. "I'm not leaving the boy."
"Then we hold them off as long as we can. Reinforcements are on their way."
Dylan ended the call and turned to Heaven. "Pack what you need. We're leaving by dawn."
"No." She stood. "Michael is barely holding on. He needs rest, not another run."
"We don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice, Dylan!" Heaven snapped. "You're just always used to forcing yours on everyone else."
His eyes darkened, but he didn't yell. Instead, he exhaled sharply and lowered his gaze. "You're right."
Heaven blinked, startled. "Wait… what?"
"You're right," Dylan repeated. "I've always done what I thought was best without caring how it affected the people around me."
He took a slow step closer to her. "But I'm trying, Heaven. Not because of guilt. Not because of Samantha's last words. But because I don't want to lose you too."
Heaven's breath hitched. "Dylan…"
Before she could answer, a sudden boom rocked the house—like distant thunder, but sharper. Explosive.
Dylan rushed to the window, pulling the curtain back.
Flames lit up the tree line. One of the escape vehicles had been blown apart.
"Damn it," he muttered. "They're already here."
Heaven went to Michael's side, shielding him with her body. "What now?"
"We don't run," Dylan said, loading his weapon. "We protect what's ours."
---
Meanwhile – Richard's Trap
Richard stood atop a hill a few kilometers away, binoculars in hand. His men surrounded the perimeter, weapons loaded, snipers positioned.
"Burn it all," he ordered.
"But sir—what if the boy—"
"I said burn it. I don't care who makes it out. I just want Dylan to know what it feels like… to lose everything."
As the first flames began to rise, Richard smiled coldly. "Let's see if the king of the underworld can still protect his little castle."