Chapter 98 Saying our last goodbyes

Hadrain stood drenched in the rain, completely soaked, staring at nothing as if he had lost everything. The chill of the rain matched the cold emptiness inside him, the void that Jayden's death had left. He imagined his father laughing at him, savoring his misery, knowing he'd finally broken his spirit. After all, without even needing to fight, Peter Lockwood had won. Hadrain felt hollow—like a shell of who he once was, lost without purpose.

He carried Jayden's lifeless body, cradling him gently as if he might still wake. When he laid Jayden down, he began to wash him, his tears falling freely, mingling with the rain that soaked them both. His voice, thick with sorrow, cracked as he whispered, "I love you, Jayden. I don't know how to live without you. You were my everything, my world, my heart." Overcome with anguish, he collapsed, knees hitting the ground as another wave of tears flooded his vision, rendering everything a blur of heartbreak.

Once he had washed Jayden, Hadrain dressed him carefully, tenderly smoothing out his clothes. Even in death, Jayden's beauty shone, radiating a gentle peace. Hadrain's fingers brushed against Jayden's face one last time, as he choked out, "You're so beautiful, Jay. Even now… you're beautiful." But beauty only deepened the ache inside him, a haunting reminder of what he'd lost.

Seeking some way to dull the pain, he scavenged around until he found a bottle of liquor. He poured himself a glass, then another, and another, drowning his sorrow with each fiery sip. When the pain only seemed to grow sharper, he hurled the glass into the ground, shattering it to pieces. The broken shards sparkled against the damp earth, fragments reflecting the brokenness within him.

"Why… why can't I let go?" he whispered, dropping to his knees. The world seemed to close in on him until he could barely breathe. Finally, he lifted Jayden's body onto a bamboo stretcher he'd made with painstaking care, and with a heavy heart, Hadrain prepared himself for the farewell.

He teleported to a hidden garden deep within the forest, a place of untouched beauty, where vivid flowers blanketed the ground and trees towered overhead like silent guardians. It was a place befitting someone as pure, as beautiful, as Jayden. Hadrain dug the grave slowly, ensuring it was perfect, each shovel of earth weighing like lead in his hands. When the grave was ready, he took a long, last look at Jayden, then pressed a kiss to his forehead, whispering, "You will always be in my heart, Jay."

With a trembling breath, Hadrain lowered Jayden into the ground and covered the grave, his hands hesitating as if he couldn't bring himself to finish. Once he did, he chanted softly, and roses and irises bloomed around the grave, transforming the area into a haven of tranquility. He set down the bottle of champagne beside Jayden's resting place—a final tribute—and walked away with his heart in ruins.

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Elsewhere, in the city of Valemont, another group gathered under gray skies, standing solemnly beside a headstone. The name "Mina Smith May 2003 _ March 2024" was engraved in bold letters, marking her resting place. Catherine was in tears, clinging to the memory of Mina, who had sacrificed everything for her. Lamia stood beside her, dressed entirely in black, his tight jacket and boots lending him a striking, almost haunting appearance. His transformation since he arrived in Valemont was unmistakable. Once the unassuming Lamia Catherine had known, he now radiated an extravagance and confidence that felt foreign. Catherine couldn't shake her doubts, yet she couldn't voice them without solid proof—especially with Damian close by, watching her every move.

Damian, standing a little apart, gazed at the grave with a look that Lamia couldn't quite decipher. When Lamia wrapped his arms around him from behind, Damian allowed a faint smile to surface, grateful for the comfort. Mina had been more than a friend—she'd been a mother, a sister, even a lover in his most desperate moments. Her loss tore at him, leaving a hollow ache that even Lamia's presence couldn't fill.

"She was always there for me," Damian murmured, his voice strained with the weight of his grief. "Mina… she kept me going through everything. When I escaped from Dante Gonzalez's clutches, she was my anchor. She taught me how to fight, how to sleep through nightmares. She gave me hope when there was none… but now? Will anything ever be alright again?"

Catherine bit her lip, feeling his words as if they were her own. She and Damian both knew that there was no coming back from the losses they'd endured. The pain had altered them, scarred them in ways that no one else could truly understand.

After a moment of silence, Damian straightened. "Today, we go back to Ivory High. Peter Lockwood has to die. He was behind the bombs, the kidnapping, the deaths of Lucinda and countless others. Every last member of the Black Dragons will pay."

But Catherine, ever practical, knew returning to Ivory High wasn't as simple as marching in. "Damian," she interjected softly, "we ran away. We can't just walk back in like nothing happened. The officials won't allow us in."

Damian paused, momentarily stumped, until Lamia spoke up, his voice calm yet decisive. "Then we say we were abducted. We'll stage everything—torn clothes, disheveled appearances. If we make it look real, the school will have no reason to doubt us."

Damian smiled. Lamia's quick thinking reassured him, made him grateful for the loyalty by his side. But there was something he hadn't yet shared with him—something that would devastate Lamia to his core. Taking a breath, he approached, placing a hand on Lamia's shoulder.

"Lamia… I have something you need to know." He hesitated, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "Your parents… they're gone. Both of them."

A stunned silence fell over the group. Lamia's face twisted in disbelief, and then a heart-wrenching scream tore from his throat. "No! No, it can't be. Please, no!" He dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, clutching his head as if he could block out the terrible truth.

"Damian… it's not true, please… tell me it's a lie," he cried, his voice trembling with raw agony. Cathy stepped forward, feeling her heart twist at the sight of Lamia's grief. She'd doubted his authenticity, but seeing his pain now, she couldn't bear to question it further.

Damian pulled Lamia into his arms, holding him as he wept. "I'm here for you, Lamia," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Remember our promise? Always and forever. I'll avenge this, Lamia. It's time to fulfill my vow, starting with Lucinda's killer, your own sister."

Lamia's face was streaked with tears, his red hair in disarray, his eyes swollen and filled with a desolate sadness. As Damian held him, Cathy watched, her heart heavy with uncertainty. But even as she took in the scene, a chilling realization crept into her mind. When Damian hugged Lamia, a slight smirk had twisted onto Lamia's face—a smirk so subtle, it might've gone unnoticed. It was there and then gone, but its shadow lingered, sending a shiver down Cathy's spine.

"Oh my god," she thought, trembling, "if this isn't Lamia… then where is the real Lamia?"

As Damian lifted Lamia into his arms and vowed vengeance, Cathy took a step back, her mind racing. She had to find her grandmother, look for help and most importantly find the whereabouts of Lamia because it was obvious wherever he was he was in great danger so when they weren't looking she sneaked out going to her home town.

Catherine wasn't a weakling she knew if she wanted to she can locate Lamia whereabouts and she will do that and seed the imposter away, while Damian on the other hand makes his way into his car with Lamia in his arms, whispering the five magic words.

" Ivory high here we come."