The call came at dawn.
Arden was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone like he'd summoned it by sheer will. When it finally rang, he didn't hesitate.
"Father."
The voice on the other end was calm. Too calm. "You've caused quite a disturbance."
Ife watched him from the doorway, heart tight. She could tell this conversation mattered—could change everything.
"You sent me here to disappear," Arden said evenly. "I didn't."
Silence.
Then, "I sent you to survive."
Arden stood, pacing. "At what cost? You built a cage and called it protection."
"You're alive," his father snapped. "Julian isn't a street thug. He's a consequence of our world."
"And I'm done living by your rules," Arden replied.
Another pause. Longer this time.
"I hear there's a woman," his father said.
Arden stopped pacing. "Her name is Ife."
"She's a weakness."
"She's my choice."
The line went dead.
Later that day, Victor pulled Arden aside. "Your father's pulling resources. Security. Money."
Arden exhaled slowly. "Then we work lean."
Ife stepped forward. "You're not doing this without me."
Victor raised a brow. "You sure?"
She met his gaze. "Julian made me part of this. I'm not stepping back into the dark."
Arden looked at her, pride softening his features. "Then we train. We plan. Together."
That night, as rain hammered against the roof, Arden and Ife sat cross-legged on the floor, maps and notes spread between them.
Julian's remaining properties.
His allies.
His habits.
"He always circles back to old loyalties," Ife said, tapping a location. "Places he thinks still belong to him."
Arden nodded. "He's nostalgic. Dangerous combination."
She glanced up at him. "You still think this ends clean?"
"No," he admitted. "But it ends."
Their eyes held.
She reached for his hand. "Whatever happens—don't shut me out."
He squeezed her fingers. "I won't."
Across town, Julian stood in a dim room filled with old photographs.
Arden.
His father.
Himself.
Younger. Smiling. Dangerous.
"They chose him," Julian said to the shadows. "Just like before."
He picked up a photo and set it ablaze.
"If love is the battlefield," he murmured, "then that's where I'll strike."