Chapter 3.

Bryce slumped into the cracked seat of the last bus out of his street.

The sign above the windshield flickered the name of a city he’d only ever heard whispered about,the city where the Masters kept their families.

When he mumbled his destination to the driver, the man turned, eyes scanning Bryce’s dirt-caked face, the tear in his hoodie, the grime on his jeans. His look wasn’t curiosity, it was disbelief. Like Bryce had just said he wanted to buy a mansion with pocket change. But the driver only jerked his chin toward the back.

The ride felt endless. Streetlamps thinned into dark stretches of road, then swelled back into neon-lit towers as the bus groaned into the Masters’ city.

When the brakes hissed at the final stop, the driver held out a hand without a word. Bryce stared at it for half a second… then bolted.

The man’s curse followed him into the cold night, but Bryce didn’t look back. Every second wasted was one step closer to Derick’s men finding him.

Bryce drifted through the crowded streets, realizing the Masters’ city wasn’t what he’d pictured, it was louder, brighter, and full of faces that didn’t even glance at him twice.

When he stopped a man in a pressed suit and asked for directions to Dom’s family gates, the man’s eyes narrowed like Bryce had just spat on his shoes. The next person, a vendor packing up steaming food trays, gave him the same look.

It was always the same. A flicker of surprise, then that half-smirk people wore when they thought you’d lost your mind. Some shook their heads without a word. Others walked away before he could even finish asking.

That's cause, just the mention of the name. Dom. Sent shivers down their spines.

The morning sun hadn't even broken through the thick clouds when Bryce staggered toward the black iron gates of Dom’s family estate, after a night of endless search. The place whispered about in fear, A place where normal laws didn’t apply.

Two men in sleek black suits stood at the gate, rifles strapped casually across their backs, their shoulders squared in practiced stillness. When they saw Bryce limping toward them, one nudged the other with his elbow.

Bryce didn’t stop. Not even when they raised their rifles slightly in warning.

“State your business,” one of them barked, scanning him with a sneer.

“I want to join,” Bryce croaked, his voice dry, nearly a whisper. “I want to be part of your family,”

The guards exchanged glances, one bursting into laughter, the other smirking.

“You? Join this family?” the taller one mocked. “Kid, do you even know whose gates you’re at? This isn’t a soup kitchen.”

Bryce stepped closer instead, then slammed both fists against the iron bars with a desperate clang.

Bang! Bang!

“Let me in!”

The guards turned instantly, startled, not expecting resistance.

“Hey!” one barked. “Cut it out. You’re disturbing the Master. He’s in a crucial meeting.”

But he ignored them instead, banging harder with his fist. Though they hurt, the pain wasn't up to the fear of what would happen to him if any of Derick's men would set eyes on him.

“I don’t care!” Bryce shouted, his voice cracking with fury and exhaustion. “I want to be one of you. Do you want loyalty? Service? I'd do anything, I've got my own powers too!”

“Let me in!”

A sharp buzz pierced the tension just immediately. The guards’ earpieces lit up. One of them flinched.

“Shit,” the taller one muttered. “He’s drawing attention.”

“Get rid of him before someone sees,” the other hissed.

Bryce kept banging, raw hands reddening. His voice was louder instead, “You want followers who’ll do anything for your Master? I’m telling you, I will! Just let me prove it—!”

“Enough!” one of the guards barked, stepping up with his taser drawn.

But just then, a low, cold voice crackled through the radio in their ears.

“Let him in.”

Both guards froze.

Their eyes locked.

One of them swallowed hard, glancing back at Bryce, who was now slumped against the gate, chest heaving, eyes glassy but defiant.

“Open it,” the voice repeated.

And with a reluctant hand, the guard reached for the panel.

The gate began to open with a metallic groan, and the moment Bryce stepped into the hall, his feet felt unsteady on the cold marble floor. The chill inside clashed with the heat of his chest, still burning from the fear of what would have become of him if he wasn't allowed to get in.

He blinked into the golden-lit chamber, his vision blurring from exhaustion, but then suddenly sharpening with disbelief.

The room fell in layers.

A grand crescent table encircled the Master’s seat. Armed guards stood like statues at every angle, their faces blank but watchful. Older men with black coats and expressionless eyes whispered among themselves. And then… the sound.

A low, painful groan echoed from the left corner of the room.

Bryce’s head turned.

There, partially concealed behind a tall screen, two men were locked in something he couldn’t immediately comprehend. One was bent over, arms trembling, lips bleeding from how hard he’d bitten them to muffle his cries. The other, bigger, and fully clothed in the same dark armor as the other guards, gripped the smaller one by the hips, thrusting his cock into his butthole with a brutal rhythm.

Not in just lust, not even intimacy. But a ritual.

Bryce froze. His stomach twisted at the sight of what he saw.

The other guards weren’t flinching. No one spoke. Some even looked bored, their attention still half on the ongoing council.

“Bryce?”

His head snapped back.

The voice came from across the chamber. It was hushed, and shocked.

Standing behind one of the pillars was a face he hadn’t seen in three years. Eyes the same amber gold as his mother’s. Hair slightly longer, and darker than his.

“Khalifa,” Bryce whispered, breath stolen from his lungs.

His brother stood still, mouth slightly parted in disbelief. And in the silence between them, Bryce felt something else. It was shame, disbelief and the heavy weight of how cruel fate had been to them.

A hush rippled through the council chamber, broken only by the fading echoes of that pained groan in the corner.

Bryce barely had time to breathe when a cold voice sliced through the still air.

"Why are you here?"

He turned sharply.

The man who spoke sat at the far end of the crescent table, silver hair slicked back, pale eyes like glass, his tone devoid of warmth or interest. He was a council member. Bryce tried to respond, but the words lodged in his throat.

Then he saw him.

At the center of it all. Seated like he didn’t owe the world a single breath. One leg crossed, a ringed finger lazily tapping against the armrest of his chair. Shoulders draped in black robes, his heavily tattooed chest, bare through the loose folds like temptation carved into stone. A face that was perfectly sculpted,was still, cold and was just watching.

Bryce felt it.

Dom’s gaze was in him.

Not furious. Not curious. Just still, like the calm before a slow, violent storm. It didn’t need to speak. It gripped him by the spine.

Bryce’s lips parted, struggling for air, let alone words.

But he still hadn’t answered the question.

"What are you staring at?" came a sharper voice,cutting, feminine, with a smirk laced in cruelty.

From the left side of the room, Marcia rose slightly from her seat, her long red nails tapping mockingly on the table.

"Did a little boy lose his way from home and wander into hell?" she cooed, head tilting, sarcasm painted on her rouge lips.

A few chuckles stirred among the less disciplined council men. But it was short-lived.

Because suddenly there was a sound of fabric brushing stone.

Then a thud of knees hitting marble.

Bryce jerked his head to the side.

Khalifa was on his knees.

Breathing hard. Hands clenched at his sides. Not daring to look Dom in the eyes.

"Master.. please," Khalifa’s voice trembled. His voice hoarse, and raw. "He’s my younger brother. I swear to you, if you let him go, he will never step foot in this house again. I will make sure of it. This was my mistake… not his."

The weight of pain cut through Bryce’s chest like glass.

Khalifa wouldn’t even look at him.

He was kneeling not for anything else, but to beg for his brother's life. He knew begging was useless, but he had to try his luck.

And Dom still hadn’t said a word. He just watched. It stretched the silence of the hall that was already thick and suffocating further.

Every member of the council, Marcia and the guards awaited his command for Bryce's execution, but none came.

And Khalifa had no option than to remain on his knees, trembling like a leaf before a storm, waiting, and hoping, for the command that never came.

Dom didn’t so much as look at him.

Not even a flick of his gaze.

Instead, his cold, dark eyes remained locked on Bryce. Unmoving, and pinning him in place like prey.

And then, finally he spoke up.

"What do you want?"

The question was low, and deceptively simple.

But it wasn't a request.

It was more of a command.

And Bryce felt it. He felt the murmuring weight of every gaze in the room turning toward him again, the scrutiny, the amusement, and the hunger. They were surprised Dom hadn't ordered his execution yet, but questioned his reason for being there. His chest rose sharply. Sweat clung to his nape.

Dom’s voice still echoed in his bones.

What do you want?

He swallowed, his throat burning.

Part of him wanted to run. Back through the hall. Back past the sickening scene of power and pain outside the door. Back into the filth of the city where death could be swift and .. maybe..painless.

But another part,deeper, and darker knew.

There was no back for him if he wanted to stay alive. If only, but for a while.

Bryce slowly lifted his chin, though his fingers were clenched so tightly,they trembled.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I… I want to join the family."

A pause, a chilling one.

Dom’s gaze didn’t shift. But something in it… sharpened.

Not anger. Not acceptance either, Just… interest.

"Speak clearly." Dom’s voice cut through again, low and firm. "I don’t entertain cowards, or babies."

Bryce’s heart pounded.

He closed his eyes for a breath, then forced them open again.

"I want to belong here." he said louder this time. Fear still coated every word, but it didn’t crack. "I want to… join the family."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Khalifa’s head dropped further. His heart was pounding faster.

Marcia laughed softly behind her fingers, amused.

But Dom?

He leaned back slowly in his chair, one brow raised.

And smiled. Not kindly, not cruelly. Just… knowingly

“Of what use are you gonna be to me?”

He asked Bryce instead.

Bryce took that as a sign to show his usefulness, because suddenly, with a burst of will and a surge of energy he hadn’t known he possessed, he reached, inward, outward, and instinctively, and the glint of steel flashed into his palm.

Gasps echoed through the chamber. A guard’s holster was suddenly empty.

The cock of a gun shattered the silence.

Bryce stood, hands trembling, but his aim didn’t waver.

The muzzle pointed directly at Marcia.

Her eyes widened, the laughter drained from her face suddenly.

The chamber erupted.

Weapons were drawn, shouts overlapped, chairs scraped the

floor. But no one moved.

Not without Dom’s word. But he didn't even bulge at the sight, didn't even say a word. He just watched Bryce with keen interest.

Bryce's heart thundered in his ears, but he stood firm, sweat sliding down his jawline.

He turned slightly, just enough to see Dom’s still-unreadable face.

“I’m willing,” Bryce said. “Willing to serve. To bleed. To obey. But master…please..let..me..stay. I've got my own powers too,"

Dom’s face remained expressionless for a beat.

Then he spoke up. It was another question and command.

"Is this what you call powers?”

“ Chief?”

A hulking figure at the back of the room straightened. It was the chief of security.

"Behead the two guards who let him in." Dom said, like it was a normal thing to say.

“Khalifa?” He called out calmly, “lead him out of my gates,”

No anger, no explanation. Just an order that baffled all present.

Bryce could see through everyone present in the hall. Well, except from Dom, because he read through their mind. They were disappointed in Dom. Bryce was the one who was supposed to be beheaded for intruding and not otherwise. But no one questions Dom. You wouldn't dare.

It was a rule.

Before Bryce could speak again, screams rang out behind him. Steel hissed, as blood hit the floor with a wet, dull thud. Heads came rolling, till one reached his feet and stopped.

The chamber grew colder.

Bryce froze. He didn’t dare look down again.

Dom stood.

The weight of his presence stretched across the room like an eclipse.

"Meeting closed," he announced, already walking toward the metal doors with Marcia and his personal guard trailing behind.

Bryce lowered the gun slowly, his hand still trembling.

“Bryce.. let's—

And then, there was a loud whoosh, followed by a crackle, before Khalifa could complete his statement.

Everyone froze.

Flames of fire increasingly sparked.

The giant metal doors ahead of Dom were suddenly engulfed in the twisting fire, golden-orange tongues licking upward, blocking the exit in a furious blaze.

Screams rose, and chaos erupted again.

Marcia stumbled back, gasping. Dom halted mid-step. Not in fear nor trembling, his eyes narrowing as smoke swirled upward.

And Bryce? He was still holding the gun, eyes locked on the door.

Instead, Dom turned, slowly, with the calm precision of a man who had seen fire bend to his will. His silver gaze found Khalifa still kneeling, his forehead nearly pressed to the cold marble, shoulders trembling.

“Khalifa,” Dom called, his voice low,too low, and too quiet to not be terrifying.

Everyone awaited a death sentence to be passed, this time. Khalifa’s breath hitched. He lifted his head just slightly, lips parted, eyes wide and already glistening with fear. Bryce stood behind him, frozen, the heat from the flames still licking the back of his neck.

For a moment, the silence was louder than the fire had been.

Then Dom spoke. It was soft, deadly, and final.

“Prepare him.”

Khalifa blinked. “M–M—Master?”

Dom’s eyes narrowed.

“Your brother,” he said with slow clarity. “He wants to be one of us. He’s interrupted the council, drawn a weapon, embarrassed you, and gotten two men executed within ten minutes of stepping into my walls.”

His steps echoed as he began walking back toward the charred door, the flames now extinguished as quickly as they had come.

“He’ll take the first test at dawn.”