War Against Love and Fate.
Damian was in his office, his pen stilling mid-signature when Eric rushed in, his footsteps uneven, breath clipped with urgency.
"Sir_" Eric's voice trembled with restraint, "we have a problem. Victor Lawson just pulled the Viper's Mafia into this mess. An insider says they're planning to launch an attack on you tonight."
For a moment, silence pressed into the room like a heavy fog. Then Damian slowly raised his eyes, the calm mask slipping, revealing something sharper, dark, lethal. His gaze gleamed like steel catching fire, and when he scoffed, the sound was low, dangerous, almost mocking.
"Is that so?" he murmured, as if the news amused him more than threatened him.
Eric swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. This time he is going all out to bring you down. I guess he loves Miss Eva that much. And I would have suggested you perhaps convince your mom to go back to California, this is not a good time for her to be around"
Damian leaned back in his chair, unfazed, his expression unreadable. Then his lips curved, not into a smile, but into something colder. "She stays," he said flatly. "I'll handle the rest."
His smirk deepened, wicked, like a king in the underworld savoring the scent of war. "Very well then. If Victor wants a fight... I'll return the favor."
He rose, fluid and deliberate, shrugging on his jacket with the grace of a man who had worn power all his life. His presence filled the room, heavy and electrifying, and Eric felt his chest tighten. Damian moved toward the door, each step a promise of violence.
"Sir, where are you going?" Eric called, his voice tight with unease as he hurried to keep pace.
Damian's answer came like a gunshot. "Rodriguez. If there's going to be a war..." His eyes glinted with ruthless fire. "...then I'll be ready."
A chill ran down Eric's spine. The air itself seemed to thrum with danger. This wasn't just a fight anymore. This was the beginning of something far bigger, something that could set the entire city on fire.
True to Eric's warning, night fell heavy and dangerous. The city slept, but beneath its silence another world stirred. While crickets sang their soft lullabies in the distance, the streets near the abandoned docks thrummed with tension. Shadows moved like predators, engines hummed low, and whispers of steel against leather hinted at the storm to come.
The Viper's Mafia arrived first, their cars cutting through the night like black sharks gliding on still water. Their boots hit the ground with calculated confidence, men armed and ready, believing they would be the hunters tonight.
But the moment they turned the corner, they froze.
An army was waiting.
Damian's camp stood already lined up, guns glinting under the pale moonlight, eyes cold and merciless. The docks were crawling with his men, every rooftop, every crate, every shadow claimed by his presence. It was not an ambush. It was a declaration.
Victor Lawson's face twisted in shock. His jaw clenched as realization hit.
"We've been sabotaged," he muttered darkly, his voice a growl. "This is a trap."
The first gunshot cracked like thunder, and chaos exploded. The air filled with smoke, sparks, and the deafening roar of automatic fire. Bodies surged forward, fists, blades, bullets clashing in a brutal dance of power. Damian's men fought like shadows of the underworld, precise, relentless, a force that refused to fall back.
Victor's men stumbled, cut down one after another. He could feel the tide turning too quickly, Damian's camp too prepared, too ruthless. His own confidence burned into ash.
Snarling, Victor raised his voice above the gunfire.
"Retreat! Pull back, now!"
He took one last look at the battlefield, at Damian's iron grip over the night, at how easily his forces had been overwhelmed and his chest burned with fury.
As his men scrambled back into their cars, Victor sneered into the chaos, spitting his words like a promise into the wind.
"Nice one, Damian. I guess I underestimated you. But this isn't over. Fine, there'll be another war, but, this time, I'll get Dexter involved. Let's see how long you keep your crown then!"
The engines roared as the Vipers fled into the darkness, leaving the docks soaked with blood, smoke, and the echo of war.
And somewhere in the shadows, Damian stood watching, cold, calculating, like the devil himself, ready for the next game.
Eric stepped into the kitchen quietly, the faint aroma of spices wrapping around him. He lingered by the doorway, shoulders heavy, his thoughts dark and tangled. For a long moment, he just stood there, watching Eva hum softly as she stirred the pot. The warmth of the kitchen, the gentle domesticity, it was such a cruel contrast to the chaos he knew was unfolding outside.
He turned to leave, but then she spun around, her eyes widening at the sight of him.
"Mr. Eric! Good evening, sir," she said quickly, a small smile flickering across her lips. But it faltered when she caught the heaviness in his gaze. "Is everything alright? I hope you're not here to see Damien, he left earlier."
Eric let out a rough sigh, his voice low and edged with restrained frustration.
"I know he's not here, Miss Eva. I also know he is currently out there, fighting your ex's Mafia dogs."
Eva froze, her ladle slipping from her fingers with a faint clang against the pot. Her face drained of color.
"I, I don't understand. Please, talk to me, Mr. Eric. What's happening? Did Victor do something? Is Damien..."
"Miss Eva..." Eric cut her off, his jaw tight. He ran a hand over his face, visibly battling with his words. "Forgive me for saying this, but sometimes I wonder if you are truly what's best for him. Damien has already bled too much, for family, for betrayal, for love. And now, here he is again, ready to spill blood in the name of you."
Her eyes shone as her chest tightened. She wanted to scream back, to demand answers, to defend herself, but all that came out was a broken whisper.
"I never wanted this... I never wanted him hurt." Her tears fell silently, shimmering trails against her cheeks.
Eric's voice cracked with quiet fury, a man torn between duty and despair.
"I don't understand why he insists it has to be you. So, I'll agree on whatever he chooses. But if anything_anything_happens to him tonight, Miss Eva, I swear..." He stopped, his throat thick, his gaze hardening. "...I will never forgive you."
He turned sharply, his footsteps heavy as he made for the door. But then he froze, his entire body stiffening.
Mrs. Eleanor stood just beyond the doorway, her face ashen, her eyes wide with horror. She had heard every word.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Eric stood stiffly before Mrs. Eleanor and Seraphina in the richly lit room. The air was heavy, the silence sharp enough to slice through. Eleanor's cold gaze burned into him as she leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping the armrest with dangerous patience.
"Eric," her voice was calm, too calm, like the stillness before a storm. "You have no idea what I am capable of if something happens to my son. If there is anything I need to know, you will say it now. Every secret. Every truth. If you dare hold back, Eric Tristan, I will skin you alive."
Eric swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. Then, with reluctant resolve, he began to recount everything, every detail, every dangerous thread that tied Eva to Damien's battles. The more he spoke, the more Seraphina leaned forward, watching Eleanor's expression darken with each word.
When Eric finally fell silent, Mrs. Eleanor turned her head slowly toward Seraphina, her face etched with disbelief and rage.
"That's the kind of woman Damien has chosen?" she hissed, her voice trembling with restrained fury. "What kind of son seeks ruin twice? Will he only rest when he sees my corpse? Isn't it clear enough, she is nothing but another Tyler!"
"I warned him, ma'am," Eric admitted, his tone weary. "But he wouldn't listen. He's blinded by her. Now... even I don't know what to believe anymore."
Mrs. Eleanor clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "Seraphina, tell me, what must I do to tear this girl away from my son? Because I will not sit by and watch Damien drown again."
Seraphina, who had remained quietly poised, finally lifted her chin. Her lips curved faintly, her eyes narrowing into sharp, foxlike slits. ""Don't even bother yourself ma'am," Eric added. if you try to separate them openly, you will only earn Damien's hatred. His heart is hers, whether we like it or not. He is completely charmed by her. And she understands him so much, they can practically communicate through the eyes. Sometimes I feel she completes him." Eric voice softened for a fleeting moment. "But seeing this chaos she drags behind her, and the never ending drama coming from her, I sincerely think maybe some love isn't just meant to be."
"Aunty, if we can not talk him out of cutting ties with her, then I think..." Seraphina, with eyes as sharp as a fox, and full of deception and evil plot, said as her words tailed off. "There may be only one way out."
Eleanor's eyes gleamed dangerously as she leaned closer. "Then so be it. I will do whatever I must. But mark my words, I will never allow my son to be shackled to a woman like her."
"You can go now, Eric."
Eric hesitated, his gaze locking on Seraphina. There was something in his stare, a warning, a silent plea for her not to go down a path she could never return from. But Seraphina merely averted her eyes, dismissing him as though he were nothing more than a bothersome insect.
With a heavy sigh, Eric bowed, turned on his heel, and left, his heart heavy with dread of the storm Eleanor and Seraphina were about to unleash.
Once Eric left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Eleanor's sharp eyes remained fixed on Seraphina, as though demanding answers before words even left her lips.