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Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 36
36Molly huffed, pointing an accusing finger at them. “I told you!”The younger guard stammered, his cocky attitude gone. “W-We didn’t know—”“You didn’t listen.” Dylan’s voice was sharp, his patience long gone.Helen’s eyes flashed with irritation. She crossed her arms and gave the guards a cold stare. “Apologize. To both of them.”The older guard’s jaw clenched, but he swallowed his pride. “Mr. Grenville we’re sorry.”The younger one hesitated, then turned to Molly, his face red with embarrassment. “Kid, uh—Molly—we’re really sorry. We were wrong.”Molly tilted her head, unimpressed. “You were mean.”The younger guard flinched. “Yeah… yeah, we were.”Helen nodded, then took a step closer. “Now beg.”Their eyes widened. “What?” the older guard blurted.Helen arched a brow. “Did I stutter? You almost threw your boss and his four-year-old daughter out of their own house. If you want to keep your jobs, you better start groveling.”The younger guard’s face paled. He exchanged a panicked
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37Dragonia’s ReturnDylan leaned against the sleek red Ferrari, his arms crossed as he watched Helen walk Molly into the school. His daughter turned back one last time, her bright eyes lighting up as she waved at him. He waved back, a warm smile on his face, playing the part of the doting father.But the moment Helen’s car disappeared down the street, his smile faded. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating glint. The playful father was gone.The man the world once feared had returned.He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an old phone he put there when entering the car. It was a simple, unassuming black device, one he hadn’t touched in years. A phone that was never meant for casual use. It carried only one purpose: business. His business.Dylan pressed a familiar number. He hadn’t dialed it in years, but his fingers moved without hesitation. Muscle memory.The line rang once.Twice.Then—A sharp intake of breath. The sound of a chair scraping
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38But before he could face his old comrades, he needed to look the part. Years of blending in had left his wardrobe uninspiring. If he was going to reestablish dominance, he had to start with presence.His eyes landed on an upscale boutique, its sleek glass windows showcasing perfectly tailored suits, each one exuding power and refinement. Without hesitation, he pulled up in front of it and stepped out.The moment he walked in, the atmosphere shifted.The soft hum of polite conversation stilled for a brief second before resuming in hushed whispers. Dylan’s sharp gaze flicked around the room, taking in the subtle yet unmistakable expressions of disdain.The salesmen, dressed in pristine suits, gave him a once-over, their smiles practiced but unimpressed. The customers, clad in designer brands from head to toe, openly stared, some even nudging their companions to whisper behind manicured hands.“Did he lose his way?” a woman muttered, eyeing his simple jeans and leather jacket as if th
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39The older salesman, a man in his late fifties with silver hair slicked back and a thin mustache, strode over with an air of barely contained annoyance. His polished shoes clicked against the marble floor, his every movement exuding an authority he thought Dylan should fear.“Sir,” he began, his tone patronizing, “perhaps I can direct you to something… more within your range?”Dylan turned slowly, his smirk deepening. “And what exactly do you think my ‘range’ is?”The older man didn’t miss a beat. “Something more… practical,” he said smoothly, his gaze flicking dismissively over Dylan’s leather jacket and jeans. “This suit is handcrafted, made from exclusive Italian wool, and tailored for a very particular clientele.”Dylan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “So, let me get this straight—you’re saying I don’t fit into that ‘particular clientele’?”The younger salesman shifted uncomfortably, looking between Dylan and his superior. The two women near the display exchanged amused
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40Dylan ran his fingers over the fabric of a sleek black suit, feeling the weight of Gregory’s irritation lingering in the air. Simon, the younger salesman, trailed behind him, looking like a man stuck between duty and self-preservation.Dylan smirked. “You don’t have to keep following me, you know.”Simon hesitated. “I… I was told by Mr. Gregory to assist you.”Dylan turned, leveling him with a cool look. “And I just told you that you don’t have to. You take orders from customers too, right?”Simon shifted on his feet, glancing toward where Gregory had disappeared. “Technically… yes.”“Great. Then do yourself a favor and go.” Dylan gave him a lazy grin. “I can pick a damn suit without a babysitter.”Simon chewed on the inside of his cheek, torn. Gregory had been clear, but Dylan was a customer. And if there was one thing Simon valued more than his job, it was not getting caught in unnecessary crossfire.Reluctantly, he gave a small nod. “Alright. If you need anything, I’ll be at the
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41Dylan schooled his features before opening the door, stepping out with deliberate calm. His eyes flicked between the two guards—one broad and stiff, the other wiry but just as rigid.“Gentlemen,” he greeted, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What’s the problem?”The first guard, the burly one, squared his shoulders. “We need to check your pockets, sir.”Dylan let out a slow, amused whistle. “Wow. No hello? No ‘how’s your shopping experience?’ Straight to accusations?”The younger guard narrowed his eyes. “A staff member saw you hiding something in your jacket.”Dylan tilted his head slightly, pretending to be deep in thought. “Did they now?” He looked over his shoulder toward where Gregory had conveniently positioned himself near the register, pretending to be busy but obviously watching. “Let me guess… was it him?”Neither guard answered. Their silence was answer enough.Dylan sighed. “Okay. I see what’s happening here.” He spread his arms slightly, making a slow turn. “If you
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42Dylan’s jaw tightened, his entire body bristling with barely contained fury. He looked from Gregory to the guards, then back again, his voice cold but cutting as he spoke.“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dylan said, his tone low and dangerous.Gregory’s smile faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Do you really want to escalate this? You’re making a scene over nothing.”“Over nothing?” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not the one who’s making a scene here. Your buddy Gregory”—he spat the name out like venom—“is the one who’s orchestrated this whole thing.”Gregory’s expression hardened, his gaze flicking to the guards. “Enough talk. Do your job.”The older guard, still uneasy, stepped toward Dylan. “Come on, sir, let’s go. Don’t make this harder on yourself.”Dylan shot a glance at the younger guard, who was practically vibrating with impatience. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re actually going to touch me?”The younger guard’s eyes flashed. “That’s it. You’re coming with
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43But Dylan wasn’t about to step back. He pushed forward, his eyes narrowed. “You’re doing it all wrong!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the tension. “You’re giving her the wrong treatment! You’re going to kill her!”The doctor shot a venomous look at him, snapping, “You’re the one who’s causing damage here! Just stay out of the way!”Dylan ignored him, crouching again as he muttered under his breath. His hands trembled slightly as he began applying pressure to the woman’s chest, using a traditional healing technique that involved manipulating the body’s energy flow. He wasn’t doing it properly by modern medical standards—he was working from instinct, pressing in ways that helped align the body’s natural rhythms.But it was clear to the doctor and bystanders that Dylan was failing to stabilize the woman. His movements were erratic, the healing slow and not precise enough to address her deteriorating condition.“You’re just making it worse!” the doctor barked again, stepping in
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221: The Future in Flame “I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t.” Dylan nodded. “Then let’s burn the world down.” He typed the command. A loading bar began to climb. Lilith stepped up beside him and pulled a drive from her coat—sleek, unlabeled, humming softly. “My code’s on here,” she said. “It’ll mimic the framework of Ignis Core perfectly. I’ve even embedded some of your old code from before you joined Ash. They’ll think it’s legit. Familiar. But once it activates… recursive detonation.” She handed it to him. He plugged it in. The system blinked. Code spilled across the screen—lines upon lines of luminous, perfect deception. Lilith crossed her arms as she watched. “We’ve got one shot at this.” Dylan didn’t look away from the screen. “Then we make it count.” The lights dimmed for a moment as the system initiated a shadow crawl—spreading the false Ignis Core like a virus in slow motion. Unseen. Waiting. When it was done, Dylan stood back, eyes cold. “Now we wait for them
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220 Another pause. Then the faint sound of typing. “You want a paper trail?” “I want everything. Timeline?” “Standard turnaround is three days—” “Yesterday,” she cut in coldly. “I want to know everything.” The line stayed quiet for another beat, then the voice softened just a little. “Got it. I’ll be in touch.” Jane hung up before he could say anything else. She stood still for a moment, the city buzzing around her, oblivious. The ache in her cheek was fading now. But something else was forming beneath it. A plan. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. She might not have been the mother Molly needed—but she was still the sharpest weapon in the room. And it was time to cut through the lies. **** “God, that hurt,” Jane muttered under her breath, wincing as she touched her cheek again. Jane exhaled slowly, tucking the phone into her coat. Her fingers were trembling slightly, but not from fear. Anticipation. She turned to herself, muttering quietly, “Let them play the her
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219 Jane was a good actress.Always had been.The tears never came when they were supposed to, and yet she could conjure them on command. A trembling voice, a haunted look, a furious, grieving mother storming into the middle of someone else’s crisis like she owned it—she wore the mask well. She always had.She could remember the first time she learned how useful a lie could be. She was ten, maybe eleven. Her father had forgotten to pick her up from piano class. Again. When she walked home alone, cold and soaked from the rain, her mother demanded to know why she hadn’t called.“I dropped the phone,” Jane had said. “It broke.”Not true. Not even close.But her mother had sighed, pulled her into a towel, and mumbled something about how her father never remembered the important things. That day, Jane realized that people didn’t want the truth. They wanted a version of it they could live with.Molly’s disappearance? Tragic, yes. Maddening, of course. But gut-wrenching?Not exactly.She fe
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218Her cheek was on fire.The skin throbbed beneath her fingertips, every heartbeat pumping more heat into the wound Lilith had left. Jane could feel the swelling already—tight and raw, as if a thousand needles were pricking her at once. Her ears rang from the sound of the slap, but louder still was the pounding of her own pride, screaming at her that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let this end with her standing there, humiliated.No.Not like this.Not with Dylan between them, not with Lilith standing there looking like some righteous, self-important goddess. Not when her cheek was burning like it was trying to peel off her damn face.Jane’s eyes locked on Lilith—and without a second thought, without hesitation or grace, she struck.Her hand shot out fast and furious, an explosion of motion that cracked across Lilith’s face with a sickening sound. Her palm connected hard, and the impact shuddered down her arm like a jolt.Lilith’s head snapped to the side. Her hair, half-loose from the earli
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217Jane’s chest heaved, her breath coming fast and shallow. Her eyes burned—wild, furious, and unrelenting. She pointed a shaking finger at Dylan, voice trembling but loud enough to draw the attention of a passing couple across the street.“I left you, Dylan. You. Not Molly.”Her voice dropped, turning venomous and precise, like she was lashing each syllable across his face. “Both of you were the chains wrapped around my neck. You—some pathetic, broke, useless excuse of a man. A man with no future, no plan, no spine. Every day I spent in that house was like dying slowly. I did the right thing leaving. And guess what? I’m better for it. Stronger. Smarter. And soon, I’ll be a very rich woman. Not just locally. Not just nationally. Internationally. Bobby’s making it happen.”Dylan blinked, once, then twice. For a second he said nothing, just looked at her—really looked at her. At the expensive earrings, the glossy lipstick, the clothes tailored to perfection. All the glitter piled on to
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216 “I left Molly,” she whispered. “I left her behind. I thought she’d be better off without the mess I was making. I thought Dylan—God—he was supposed to protect her.” “I think he’s been trying,” Lisa said softly. “But he’s hiding something. Maybe a lot of things.” “And he brought Lilith into this,” Jane muttered. “Of course he did. Of course.” There was venom in her voice when she said Lilith’s name. Jane had met the woman twice—both times by accident, and both times left her with the distinct impression that Lilith was a wolf smiling in a fur coat. Jane’s breathing became shallow. She looked around her kitchen like she was searching for something to punch. The cabinets were too sturdy. The walls were too silent. “She’s just a little girl,” Jane said, her voice cracking. “She still calls bees ‘buzzies’ and thinks thunder means God’s bowling. How the hell could he keep this from me?” Lisa didn’t speak. “I’m going to find him,” Jane said suddenly, moving. Her voice was low and
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215Her hand slowly dropped from her cheek. “You’re talking about her like she’s a monster.”“She’s not,” Dylan said. “She’s human. But that doesn’t make her a mother.”A long silence stretched between them.Lilith said nothing, letting the space breathe, letting the weight of truth settle.Lisa looked at her, and for once, there was no bite in her voice. Just a raw kind of confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me?”Lilith looked back evenly. “Because you were too busy setting the stage.”Lisa’s lip trembled. “I didn’t know…”“No,” Dylan said, softer now. “You didn’t want to know.”He stepped past her then, toward the street, toward whatever came next. He was done with the confrontation. Done with the theater. There were more important things to do.Molly needed him.Lilith followed without a word, falling into step beside him.Lisa stood in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by the remnants of her own performance—watchers gone, the spotlight faded.She was alone now.And the weight of
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214 Infact it was her shady car buyers and Dylan mistook them as people there to try to kill him. “Who are they?” Lilith asked. Lisa didn’t answer. She turned back to Dylan instead. “Don’t play dumb. Don’t pretend you’re in danger. You’re not the victim here. You never have been.” “Then what’s the show for?” Lilith asked. “I told you,” Lisa snapped. “People deserve to know what kind of man he is.” “People already think they know,” Lilith said. “You’re just hammering it in. Why now? Why here? What’s happening that you don’t want anyone to see?” Lisa’s jaw clenched. She took another step back. But Dylan had already started mentally mapping the exit points. The alley to their right. The cafe entrance. The fire escape four buildings down. He wasn’t just seeing Lisa anymore—he was reading the whole board. This wasn’t random. And the moment he’d seen her, standing there with her coat too perfect, voice too loud, eyes too bright, he’d known. It was all wrong. It wasn’t grief or
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213“She finally divorced you,” Lisa said, the words slicing the air like glass. Her voice was calmer now, but only because she knew she’d drawn blood. “Finally. And thank God she did. Jane is building a life now—a future. Something you would have ruined if she’d stayed. You dragged her down long enough.”The words settled over the sidewalk like ash. A few onlookers had stopped, heads turning, phones subtly raised. The city had its own rhythm—cars hissing by on wet asphalt, neon lights flickering in windows—but all of it dimmed under Lisa’s voice.Dylan stood frozen for a beat too long. His hands curled into fists, not out of anger, but restraint. His heart pounded like a war drum behind his ribs. He wanted to yell, to peel back her lies in front of everyone, to lay out the complexities of what had really happened—what Jane had chosen to ignore, what she had run from long before any betrayal.But he knew how this would look.Lisa always knew how to hold a stage. How to paint herself i
