Chapter 14 You are still a bastard
The gunfire didn't stopped echoing inside the store, Landon Hayes stayed low behind the overturned display rack, keeping his body steady while the world around him collapsed into chaos. Glass shelves shattered one after another, watches and metal fragments scattering across the floor as bullets tore through the aisles with no regard for anything or anyone inside.
He did not panic, and he did not rush.
The ballerina music box remained firmly in his hand.
Then, just as quickly as it had started, the firing stopped.
A brief silence followed.
A sound Landon immediately recognized came next.
A magazine sliding into place.
Then a soft click.
The attacker was reloading.
Landon moved the moment he confirmed it, pushing himself out from cover with controlled speed, closing the distance before the man could finish preparing his weapon. The attacker looked up at the wrong moment and saw him coming far too late to react properly.
“Too late,” Landon said as he reached him.
The first strike landed clean, a punch that snapped the man’s head sideways and forced him back into a display shelf. Landon followed immediately, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the surface behind him.
He did not give him space to recover.
An elbow came down into the shoulder, breaking the structure beneath it.
A knee followed into the ribs, forcing the air out of his lungs.
The man tried to resist, but Landon twisted his arm until the joint gave way, then forced him down to the floor in a single motion that ended with a heavy impact against the tiles.
A sharp stomp came down on the knee, and the bone gave out with a sound that made the remaining attacker freeze nearby.
Landon did not stop there.
He seized the same arm again, forcing it into a position it was never meant to take, then drove his elbow into the collarbone until it collapsed inward. The attacker’s scream filled the store, raw and uncontrolled, but Landon’s expression never changed as he ensured the damage was complete and permanent.
When he finally stepped back, the man was no longer a threat to anyone.
The second attacker, the one near the shattered perfume shelf, lay groaning weakly, barely conscious. Landon kicked the weapon away first, then checked both men carefully, turning their sleeves, collars, and necklines without a word.
No tattoos.
No markings.
No identifiers.
Nothing that linked them to the group he had been expecting.
His jaw tightened slightly.
“These are not the ones,” he said calmly, though the disappointment in his voice was clear.
At that moment, the store entrance was pushed open again.
“Landon!”
Carter entered quickly with his weapon raised, scanning the entire scene in seconds before freezing completely at what he saw on the floor.
“What happened here?” he asked, lowering his voice slightly as he took in the damage.
Landon did not answer immediately. He walked past the broken shelves and stopped beside the unconscious men again.
“Search them properly,” Landon said. “Look for ink. Any symbol. Anything that ties them to the Cross case.”
Carter moved without hesitation, kneeling beside one of the attackers and checking every visible part of his body. After a few seconds of silence, he shook his head.
“Nothing,” he confirmed.
Landon exhaled slowly, his grip still firm around the ballerina music box.
“Then they are not connected to the Cross incident,” he said.
Carter stood back up, glancing around the ruined store before focusing on him again.
“So they are not the same group that hit your house.”
“No,” Landon replied without hesitation.
Carter frowned. “Then who sent them?”
Landon looked down at the two men on the floor, his voice steady but colder than before.
“That is exactly what I intend to find out.”
Without another word, Landon Hayes picked up the shattered music box from the counter, turning it in his hand as if checking whether it had suffered any damage. It had not. He added the wristwatch beside it, the antique piece resting neatly in his palm like it had always belonged there.
He walked to the counter and placed both items down.
The clerk hesitated before scanning them, his hands shaking slightly as he processed the payment. Landon paid in cash without comment, watching the transaction finish with the same calm expression he had walked in with.
The bag was handed over.
He took it.
Then he walked out of the store like nothing had happened inside.
Outside, Carter opened the car door for him and waited until they were both inside before speaking.
“You sure they weren’t sent by the Cross family?” Carter asked as he started the engine. “Maybe the Matriarch is testing you.”
Landon kept his eyes forward, the city lights reflecting faintly in his gaze.
“Maybe,” he replied. “Or maybe someone who wants my wife and daughter gone without leaving fingerprints behind. Either way, I’ll trace them. I need names, locations, and every connection they have.”
Carter nodded once, already understanding the weight behind it.
“I’ll run surveillance through military communication channels,” he said. “If there’s any internal leak, I’ll catch it.”
Landon turned slightly toward him.
“Do it,” he said. “And don’t just watch external networks. Keep an eye on the officers too. Silence in the system is never clean.”
Carter let out a short dry laugh while shifting gears.
“I’ve already started. At this point, they could breathe wrong and I’d know about it.”
“Good,” Landon replied simply.
The car pulled into motion.
A few seconds passed before Carter spoke again.
“So where are we going now? Base or the house?”
Landon didn’t answer immediately. His grip on the bag tightened slightly.
Then he spoke.
“Neither,” he said. “Take me to Ethan’s grave.”
The name settled in the car without resistance.
Carter’s expression shifted slightly, but he said nothing as he changed direction.
The road grew quieter as they drove.
Thirty minutes later, the vehicle stopped at the cemetery gates.
Landon stepped out first.
The air was still, and the place carried the kind of silence that felt heavier than noise. He walked through the rows without hesitation, passing stone after stone until he reached a simple grave marker.
He stopped.
The name carved into the stone read Ethan Cross.
For a moment, Landon did not move.
Then he spoke under his breath.
“This is how they left you.”
Carter approached from behind and glanced at the grave, then at the surrounding area.
“No honors,” Carter said quietly. “No military recognition. No flag. Just a name and a date.”
Landon’s jaw tightened slightly.
“He didn’t deserve this,” he said.
Carter nodded once. “His family didn’t even claim him properly. Signed the papers and walked away. Buried him like he meant nothing.”
A pause followed.
Then Landon spoke again, his voice colder now.
“Call Dorcas,” he said. “I want a full military funeral arranged. No shortcuts. No silence. He gets what he earned.”
“Understood. I’ll take care of it.”
Carter handed Landon Hayes a bottle of scotch, the kind that only came out after missions where nobody slept and nobody came out the same. Landon took it without a word and walked to Ethan Cross’s grave.
He knelt.
The bottle opened with a soft twist.
He poured a small amount onto the soil first, letting it sink in slowly, then took a long drink before speaking.
“Hey… Ethan.”
His voice stayed steady, but it carried weight.
“I miss you, brother. You didn’t fail to show up to my wedding. You were there. Right beside me like you always said you would be. I was the one who failed. I failed Evelyn. I failed Ava.”
He took another drink, slower this time, eyes fixed on the name carved into the stone.
“I should’ve been there for them. And I should’ve been there for you too.”
A pause followed, sharp and heavy.
“They’re trying to erase you now. Saying you betrayed me. Saying you chased Isabelle Hart. Calling you a snake like you meant nothing.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“But I know what you were. You were loyal. More than loyal. You were the only one who never turned your back on me, and they buried you like you were disposable.”
Landon stood slowly, the bottle hanging loosely at his side.
“I’m going to clear your name, Ethan. I swear it on this grave.”
He looked down again, voice dropping lower but sharper.
“Isabelle Hart will come here one day, and when she does, she’ll kneel here and regret every lie she ever spoke about you. I’ll make sure of it.”
A short pause.
“And the Cross family… I’ll dismantle them piece by piece. Every single one of them will stand here and understand exactly what they did.”
He tipped the bottle slightly, letting the last of the scotch spill onto the ground.
“I hope wherever you are, you see it.”
A moment of silence followed.
“I won’t fail you again.”
The wind moved through the cemetery, but Landon didn’t turn away from the grave.
Behind him, Carter’s voice came quietly.
“Sir… it’s time. Your father’s birthday event has already started.”
Landon exhaled once, then stood fully.
“I forgot,” he said simply.
Carter stepped back toward the car. “We should go.”
They left the cemetery in silence.
The Caelum estate was already alive when they arrived.
Lights stretched across the entire courtyard, reflecting off polished marble and expensive glass. Music played over conversations, and the air was filled with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and forced politeness between powerful families. The entire Caelum lineage and their political allies were gathered like a staged display of power.
Landon stepped out of the car without hesitation.
Before he could take another step, a voice cut through the noise.
“Look what the wind dragged in.”
Lucian Caelum stood near the entrance, dressed like he owned the night itself, wearing a smile that never reached his eyes. He looked Landon up and down as if measuring something unworthy.
“Lucian,” Landon said calmly. “Evening.”
Lucian let out a short laugh and walked closer, hands in his pockets like the entire estate belonged to him alone.
“No salute? No respect? So that’s how it is now, Major General?” he said, voice dripping with mockery. “You come back wearing medals and suddenly forget your place.”
He stopped close enough for everyone nearby to hear.
“Don’t let the uniform fool you,” Lucian added, smiling wider. “You’re still a bastard in this house. Rank doesn’t change blood.”
