All Chapters of Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth: Chapter 371
- Chapter 380
416 chapters
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The man by the pillar swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly as if every word he wanted to force out turned to stone in his mouth. His pride clashed with his fear. His fingers clenched against his thighs, nails biting into his skin.“I…” he croaked, voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”The bartender stiffened, blinking rapidly. His lips parted, but no sound came out. It was almost too surreal.Dylan’s eyes narrowed. He raised his chin slightly, the movement deceptively lazy but steeped in authority. “Too soft. Say it again. With your chest. Let them all hear who you bow to when your mask cracks.”The man’s face burned red. A muscle in his jaw ticked furiously, but when Dylan tilted his head in that sharp, mocking way again, he caved.“I’M SORRY!” he shouted, the words tumbling out raw and ugly. His voice carried across the room, echoing off the walls. “I was wrong. I mocked without knowing. I–I shouldn’t have said it!”The bartender flinched, looking down at the counter, shame and discomf
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The third slap landed with a sickening snap, echoing across the room like a warning bell. The man’s knees buckled entirely this time, and he crumpled forward, his forehead hitting the polished floor with a soft thud. A trickle of blood ran freely now from the split corner of his lip, mixing with the sweat beading on his temples. He gasped, shivering violently, completely undone.Dylan didn’t pause. He stood over him, tall and unwavering, the shadow of authority pressing down on everyone present. His voice, low and deliberate, cut through the murmurs like a blade.“You had your chance,” Dylan said, pacing slowly around the man as if circling prey. “Your lies. Your cruelty. Your arrogance. And yet you thought you could hide behind the faces of others. But masks always slip, don’t they?”The man tried to raise his head, to plead again, but Dylan’s gaze alone held him frozen. His arms hung limp at his sides, as if the will to resist had been crushed entirely.“You hurt someone who had no
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he silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until the sharp click of heels broke it. Every head turned. A woman in a sleek black dress stepped out from the shadows near the bar, her presence commanding in a way that made even Dylan’s exit feel incomplete.Her crimson lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.“Well,” she said, voice smooth as silk yet barbed with venom, “that was… entertaining.”The bartender stiffened. “Madam…” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry.She ignored him, her gaze settling on the man still crumpled on the floor. She tilted her head, studying him like one might examine a broken tool.“You’ve embarrassed us tonight,” she murmured. “I warned you to keep your vices hidden. But now…” Her smile sharpened. “…now the wrong man knows.”Gasps rippled through the room. Wrong man?The broken man whimpered, his voice cracking. “P-please… I didn’t mean—”Her hand shot up, silencing him instantly. She didn’t raise her voice, but the weight of her authority was
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The voice was low, roughened by years of smoke and secrets. Dylan’s head didn’t turn immediately—he didn’t need to. He already knew who it was.A man stepped out from the alley, his coat collar pulled high against the cold. His face was partly hidden in the shadows, but the scar slicing across his cheekbone caught the lamplight.Dylan’s jaw flexed. “You’re late.”The man smirked. “And you’re reckless.” His eyes flicked back toward the bar, where faint murmurs still drifted through the open windows. “Do you have any idea what storm you just kicked up?”Dylan’s gaze was steady, unblinking. “The storm was always coming. I just chose where it would break.”The man chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Still cryptic, eh? Years vanish, everyone thinks Dylan Coldwater is a ghost, and then he resurfaces by beating one of her men bloody in public. Either you’re smarter than the rest of us, or you’ve gone soft.”Dylan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Soft?” His voice dropped, dangerous. “Do you w
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Dylan’s boots clicked against the wet cobblestones, each step deliberate, echoing through the empty streets like a warning. The alley behind him swallowed the man’s muttered curses, but the words clung to him, heavier than the fog settling over the city.He didn’t move fast—there was no rush. Storms, he had learned, came whether you ran or stood still. And tonight, he needed to see the pieces before striking.The man caught up after a few steps, hesitant, like approaching a predator. “Dylan… if your brother is alive—”“Alive,” Dylan repeated, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. “Alive doesn’t mean he’s mine anymore.”“Then what do you want? Revenge? Closure?” The man’s voice wavered, but there was a thread of fear woven through it. “Because if it’s revenge… you’re walking into something you can’t control.”Dylan stopped at a streetlamp that flickered in protest against the darkness. He looked down at the puddle forming beneath it. The reflection of his face wavered, distorted by th
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They moved toward the square where the city.“You promised me honesty,” Dylan said. “Not riddles.”The man laughed, a thin, humorless sound. “Honesty’s a currency I spent a long time ago.”Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Spend it now.”The man stopped, turned so the light washed one side of his face. For a second something like regret flickered across his features. Then he said, quietly, “I wasn’t always on their payroll.”“You were,” Dylan cut in. “You said so.”“No.” The man’s eyes finally met Dylan’s. “I was their insurance. I made sure people like you couldn’t bite back. I handed them chances. I handed them your brother.”Rain threaded down his eyelashes. “I told them where to find him the night he—” He swallowed. “I thought it would be a warning. A scare. Not… whatever they did.”Dylan’s hands clenched until his knuckles whitened. For a heartbeat, the only sound was the rain and two hearts beating—one steady, one ragged.“You were supposed to be my contact,” Dylan said. “Not their recrui
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Dylan didn’t answer Ivy. Not with words, not with fists. He just turned, rain soaking his coat until it clung to his frame, and walked away. His boots splashed through the gutters like they were the only rhythm left in the world.The city square blurred behind him. He needed movement, something tangible, something that didn’t taste like betrayal. By the time the lamps thinned into neon strips and storefronts, he had decided: a car. A way out, a way forward.The dealership was a glass box of light in the storm, its bright windows cutting through the wet dark. Polished machines glimmered under fluorescent bulbs, their paintwork like candy shells. Dylan stepped inside, trailing a storm behind him. Rainwater pooled immediately beneath his boots, dotting the glossy white tiles with dark splashes.A young salesman, slim and polished, spotted him at once. His smile was professional, but his eyes couldn’t hide the quick sweep they gave Dylan’s figure: unshaven jaw shadowed in dark stubble, ha
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Dylan’s knuckles whitened as his fists closed tighter, then slowly loosened again. He wasn’t here for them. He told himself that once, then again, because the heat rising in his chest wanted another kind of answer.The younger salesman tilted his head, smirk deepening. “That coat of yours—what is it, vintage? My granddad had one like that back in the ‘80s. He threw it out when it started smelling like wet dog.”The older one barked a laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Careful, don’t get too close. Might leave a stain on the leather seats.”The younger salesman snapped his fingers, pretending to think. “Oh! I get it. You’re here for shelter, right? Rain’s too rough, figured you’d take a stroll through the showroom, drip on the floor, stare at things you can’t touch. Cheaper than a motel.”The older one leaned back in his chair, eyeing Dylan’s boots. “Those things look like they’ve seen more puddles than pavement. Wonder if the soles are even attached. Maybe we should o
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The younger salesman’s grin twitched, faltering like a cheap neon sign. His lips parted, but nothing came out at first. Then—too fast, too bright—“Funny. That’s funny, right? You—uh—you’ve got jokes.”Dylan didn’t move. His gaze stayed on him, still as the car itself.The older salesman leaned forward in his chair, forcing a chuckle. “Listen, pal. We don’t… uh… hand out keys to just anyone walking in off the street. That car—” he jabbed his finger at the blood-red machine gleaming under the showroom lights—“isn’t for… browsing.”Rain hammered harder against the glass, the sound swelling like a drumroll.Dylan’s voice cut through it, calm, unbothered. “Not browsing.”He took a single step forward. Water dripped from his coat onto the tiles, each drop loud in the hush. “Buying.”The younger salesman tilted his head, trying to laugh again but it came out thin. “Buying? That one? Friend, that thing’s six figures—before taxes. You don’t just stroll in here, dripping wet, and call dibs.”D
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The older salesman’s face went red, veins standing out on his forehead. “I am stopping him. You little—” He didn’t finish. Dylan’s glare cut through him like ice.The younger salesman froze, hovering over the desk like a kid caught stealing candy. “I—I… I can’t—he’s—he’s dripping water all over the tiles!” His voice cracked again, high-pitched. “That’s—ugh—hazard! Liability!”Dylan’s mouth twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Hazard?” he said slowly. “You mean like the hazard of me walking out with the car while you boys yap?”The older man jabbed a finger. “Enough! Listen, kid, do you have any idea what you’re asking? That car isn’t—”“Isn’t what?” Dylan cut in, calm but sharp. “Yours to decide? Yours to deny? Is that it?”The older salesman opened his mouth, then closed it. He swallowed. Something about the way Dylan stood there, shoulders squared, wet coat plastered to him, boots leaving dark, wet marks on pristine tiles, made him feel like a child.T