Rain poured relentlessly over the Washington cemetery. The sky, heavy with dark clouds, seemed to cry along with them. Everything was silent, except for the dull sound of raindrops hitting the guests' umbrellas.
A hundred people were present, but for Dylan, only three faces mattered: Andrea, Daniella… and the cold gravestone that read:
"Diego Lenoir – A brother. A hero. A silent heart."
Dylan wore a flawless black suit, but his eyes betrayed the storm raging within. He hadn't slept in two days. His gaze remained fixed on the coffin slowly descending into the earth.
Beside him, Andrea sobbed, clinging to Daniella. Both held bouquets of white roses.
The priest said a few words, but Dylan heard none of them. In his mind, only one scene played on repeat: Diego throwing himself in front of him, the bullet piercing his chest, blood pouring, and that peaceful gaze saying goodbye.
When the final word was spoken, Dylan stepped toward the coffin. He placed a black rose on the polished wood.
— You shouldn't have left… not like this, he whispered. I'll find the one who did this to you. I swear on my life… I'll destroy them.
---
That evening, in the luxurious loft Diego and Dylan once shared, Dylan stood alone before the vast bay window, watching the lit-up city. He had refused dinner. Refused to speak. His phone buzzed nonstop, but he paid it no attention.
Then he sat at his desk. He turned on his computer and inserted the USB stick containing the surveillance footage from the area where the attack had happened.
He watched the videos over and over again.
— I have to find them… he murmured through clenched teeth.
The footage showed pedestrians, passing cars. Nothing out of the ordinary. But suddenly, he paused.
A movement on the roof across the street.
He zoomed in.
— There…
A figure, in a black coat, hood up, holding something… a rifle.
Dylan's heart pounded.
He replayed the clip in slow motion. The exact moment Diego jumped. The shot. The body falling. The figure backing away quickly, vanishing into the shadows.
He printed the blurry image of the shooter.
— I'll find you… even if I have to turn the whole world upside down.
---
Meanwhile, Ryder, alone in his room, stared at the same photo Dylan had just printed… except it had been on his wall for a long time. A memory printed long ago.
He stared at Diego in the photo, guilt washing over him.
— Why…? Why did you get in the way?
He slammed the wall in rage.
He hadn't planned this. He only wanted Dylan to pay. Not Diego.
But now, he had blood on his hands. And a war had begun.
---
Midnight. Dylan was still awake. He suddenly got up and opened a hidden chest under his bed. Inside were several notebooks, a weapon, and a small necklace identical to the one he wore as a child.
He closed his eyes.
— I'll have to tell them everything… soon…
He looked at the photo he had printed, then at the address of the building where the shot came from. He pulled out a map of Washington and marked the location.
— You gave yourself away… and I will find you.
A noise. Daniella. She entered quietly.
— "Dylan? You're not sleeping?"
He quickly hid the photo.
— "No. I was thinking about Diego."
She stepped closer.
— "I know you're hurting. We all are."
He slowly nodded.
— "I'm going to find out who did this, Daniella. I promise you."
She looked into his eyes.
— "And once you know? What will you do?"
A long silence followed.
— "I'll bring justice… in my own way."
Daniella gently placed her hand over his.
— "Don't lose yourself, Dylan. That's not what he would've wanted."
But in the shadows, Dylan had already made his choice. He wouldn't back down.
And one thing was certain…
The truth was ready to rise from the silence.