Chapter 2: The Fall And Rise Of a Griffin

Dylan’s POV

There was a time when my name carried weight—Dylan Griffin, son of the man who once stood as Ray Valisteen’s equal. Back then, power was our inheritance, influence our birthright. My father, Alexander Griffin, wasn’t just feared; he was respected. In every darkened corner of the city, his name echoed with reverence.

I wanted to be just like him.

As a kid, I followed him everywhere. Business meetings, late-night deals, even the dangerous ones he told me to stay away from. “Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut,” he’d say, his voice steady and commanding, like the crack of thunder.

And I listened.

I learned how to read people, how to spot lies beneath the surface of a polite smile. I saw how my father and Ray Valisteen ruled the city together, an unstoppable force that made even the most ambitious rivals think twice before crossing them.

But power is a fragile thing. And trust? Even more so.

The night everything fell apart is seared into my memory.

I was seventeen, old enough to understand but still too naive to see the betrayal coming. My father had been on edge for weeks, pacing his study with the kind of tension that made the air in our house feel suffocating. Ray had stopped coming around as often, their once-unbreakable partnership cracking under the weight of whispered disagreements.

I didn’t understand what was wrong, not until the gunshots shattered the silence.

I bolted downstairs, my heart hammering in my chest. The house was chaos—men shouting, furniture overturned, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.

And there he was.

My father, on his knees, blood staining the crisp white of his shirt.

Ray stood before him, a gun in hand, his expression cold and unyielding. I froze in the doorway, my legs refusing to move as I watched the man I once admired take everything from me in a single moment.

“Ray,” my father’s voice was hoarse, desperate. “We built this empire together. You don’t have to do this.”

“This is business, Alex,” Ray replied, his tone devoid of the charm he always carried. “And you’ve become a liability.”

I wanted to scream, to throw myself between them, but the next thing I heard was the deafening crack of a gunshot. My father fell, his body crumpling to the ground, and with him, my entire world.

Ray turned to leave, his men following him without a word. He didn’t even glance in my direction. To him, I was nothing.

---

For weeks after that night, I wandered through the wreckage of my life. My father’s allies turned their backs on me, afraid of Ray’s wrath. Our family’s empire was dismantled piece by piece, absorbed into Valisteen’s growing shadow.

I was left with nothing.

But I didn’t cry. Not once.

I couldn’t afford to.

---

Years passed, and the name Dylan Griffin became a whisper, a relic of a fallen dynasty. But the fire inside me never faded. I moved in the shadows, aligning myself with those who had reasons to hate Ray as much as I did. Not just his enemies, but his victims—those who had been crushed under the weight of his empire.

I became a ghost, haunting the streets my father once ruled. One night, as I stood on the rooftop of a crumbling building overlooking Ray’s villa, I felt a strange mix of anger and nostalgia. The city lights reflected off the endless glass windows of his fortress, a testament to everything he’d built after my father’s death.

It should have been mine.

Victor, his consigliere, was standing by the gates, calm as ever. And beside him, her.

Mia Valisteen.

Ray’s stepdaughter, the so-called “Valisteen Princess.” She didn’t belong in his world, not really. I could see it in the way she carried herself, always looking over her shoulder, as if she didn’t trust the ground beneath her feet.

I didn’t know why I kept watching her, but I couldn’t look away. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was something darker—a reminder of how Ray took everything from me while building a new life for himself.

But she wasn’t my enemy. Not yet anyway.

---

Years passed and the name Dylan Griffin became more than a whisper, wherever my name was mentioned, fear and forced respect followed. I built my empire from scratch, becoming the leader of the Dark Angels Clan warning the nickname “The Devil" over the years.  

My main goal is to destroy Ray Valisteen and everyone he holds dear. I turned to look at Liam who was staring at me with an unreadable expression. 

“What?" I growled in a annoyance. I knew whatever is going to come out of his mouth would either piss me off even more or put a smile on my face. Either way I had no choice but to listen. “Are you going to say something or not? Quite looking at me like an helpless hippo." 

Liam scoffed like an angry teenager turning his head to the side. “Mia Valisteen" s eighteen birthday is next week." 

“ And?" I asked with a brow up displeased with his withhold of information. Liam has been with me since I stated building my empire form the scratch, he's my second in command and also my best friend. God was graceful enough to give me someone like him. 

“Everything is set, just for you to make the call.” 

" Alright. We'll wait for the day to come, then we proceed with the mission.” I said looking away from him and out the window, my voice indicating that the conversation should end there. Not even two seconds passed when I felt his burning gaze at my back as if wanting to burn a hole through it. Annoyed that I can't even have a few minutes to myself and wondering why he hadn't left. Without looking at him I asked if he had anything else to report or say but he didn't respond and his burning gaze hadn't left my bac

k.

“If you don't have anything to say you can leave, I want to rest for a while."