Three days later, Selene still had not let go of Chaos.
She sat on the floor of his room with the boy wrapped tightly in her arms, her back against the bed, her fingers locked around him as though her grip alone could defy Caesar and fate itself.
The room was crowded.
Guards stood around them, silent and uneasy, none of them willing to move too close. Not because Selene could overpower them, she could not, but because there was something terrifying about a mother who had already accepted she had nothing left to lose.
Chaos sat stiffly against her chest, confused and frightened.
He did not fully understand what was happening he only knew his mother had barely let him move from her side for three days.
Every time he shifted, she held him tighter. Every time footsteps passed the door, she trembled. Every time someone came near, her eyes sharpened like broken glass.
Caesar was informed.
And when the message reached him, rage pulled him from the business that occupied him.
He returned to the mansion like a storm.
The moment he entered the room and saw Selene still clinging to the boy, surrounded by guards, his face shifted from irritation to full, unmasked fury.
"Selene!"
His voice cracked through the room, stripped of its usual calm.
Selene flinched.
Caesar's eyes were cold with rage. "Stop this nonsense at once."
Selene's arms tightened around Chaos.
Her face was pale and drained, her eyes swollen from crying, her lips dry from three days of begging gods who had not answered.
"No," she said.
Caesar's jaw tightened.
"You have to kill me first," Selene cried, her voice breaking. "My son is not going anywhere."
For a second, no one moved. Then Caesar looked at the guards. "Grab him."
The command fell like a death sentence. The guards obeyed at once.
They moved toward Selene.
"Stay away!" she screamed, pulling Chaos closer.
Selene pressed his head against her chest. "Do not touch him!"
But she was one woman and they were fifteen trained men.
The first guard seized her wrist. Another grabbed her shoulder. Selene kicked, screamed, clawed, and thrashed with everything left inside her, but it was not enough.
Chaos was pulled from her arms.
"No!" Selene shrieked.
The sound tore through the room.
Chaos reached for her, panic exploding across his face. "Mother! Mother!" His hands stretched toward her.
Selene lunged after him, but two guards pinned her down before she could reach him. Her knees hit the floor hard, but she did not seem to feel it.
"Chaos!" she screamed.
"Mother!" Chaos yelled, fighting against the men dragging him away. "Mother, please!"
He still did not know where he was going.
He did not know what the Underworld was.
He did not know why his father watched with cold eyes, or why his mother cried like he was already dead.
All he knew was that they were taking him from her.
And the thought terrified him.
The guards carried him out of the room.
Selene struggled violently beneath the men holding her down, her voice breaking as she screamed his name again and again.
"Chaos! Chaos!"
His cries echoed back from the hallway.
The sound of a car door opening. The door slammed and the car sped away from the mansion, carrying the Riegrow heir toward the Underworld. Toward whatever waited there.
Selene's body went still.
The guards holding her seemed uncertain now, as though her sudden silence frightened them more than her screaming had.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
Her eyes found Caesar.
He stood there, composed once more, as if he had only corrected a minor household inconvenience.
Selene stared at him for a long moment. "Do you not regret your sins and evils?"
Her voice was tired.
But beneath it lived every piece of rage, grief, hatred, and disgust Caesar had ever given her reason to feel.
Caesar looked at her. Then calmly, he took out a cigar, lit it, drew in a slow breath. "Only the ones that did not work out," he said with a smiled.
Selene said nothing.
There was nothing left to say to a man who had already buried his soul and called it strength.
The Underworld was not hell. Hell, at least, had myths attached to it.
The Underworld was real.
It was a ruthless institution buried far from civilisation, designed to train the next heirs of powerful families, mafia clans, criminal dynasties, bloodline empires that ruled from behind velvet curtains and polished dining tables.
Every ten years, each family sent its next heir.
A child.
A name.
A future lord.
They were brought there between the ages of ten and twelve, twenty candidates in total, all chosen to represent the most dangerous families in the hidden world.
For seven years, they would be trained and nurtured ruthlessly.
The Underworld had no use for mercy. It did not believe in justice. It had no mothers, no fathers, no prayers, no softness, and no second chances.
There, survival was the only law.
Kill or be killed.
Break or be broken.
Become strong, or be crushed beneath those who were.
For seven years, the children would be sharpened into weapons. They would be taught pain, obedience, violence, hunger, endurance, strategy, and death. At the end of those seven years, whoever survived would be returned to their family.
Not as children.
Not even as sons, but as something colder.
Heirs worthy of ruling.
Soulless, Ruthless and Unrecognisable.
The Underworld had existed longer than most of the families who used it. Its roots were buried deep in a desert no ordinary map could find, hidden behind routes known only to a select few. No government touched it. No law reached it. No rescue ever came from there.
Caesar Riegrow had once been sent there by his own father.
And by surviving it, he had earned the right to inherit the Riegrow mafia clan.
Now, he had sent Chaos.
The car drove for hours.
By the time it reached the desert, Chaos was still unconscious after being knocked out earlier.
The vehicle stopped in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by endless sand. One of the men opened the door, dragged the boy out, and tossed him onto the ground as though he were cargo.
Then the car drove away.
Chaos lay there, small and still beneath the desert sun.
A few minutes later, two men appeared.
They wore dark clothing and masks that hid their faces, moving with the ease of people who had done this many times before. Neither of them spoke as they approached the unconscious boy.
One grabbed him by the arm. The other by the back of his shirt.
Together, they lifted him and threw him into the back of a van.
The doors slammed shut and the van drove off.
When they reached the Underworld camp, Chaos was thrown out the same way he had been picked up.
This time, he was awake.
His body hit the ground hard, and for a moment, he remained there, dazed and disoriented. Sand clung to his clothes. His head ached. His throat was dry.
Then slowly, Chaos pushed himself up.
And saw where he had been taken.
The camp stretched before him like something built for war.
Large structures rose from the desert earth, harsh and colourless. Training grounds stood open beneath the burning sun. Weapon racks lined certain walls. Watchtowers loomed in the distance. Everything was sharp, severe, and built without beauty.
There was no warmth here, only function and violence.
Around him stood men in heavy armour, covered from head to toe. Not a single part of them was visible. Their helmets hid their faces completely, and each carried a weapon different from the next, blades, guns, staffs, batons, chains, things Chaos did not yet know the names of.
They did not look human.
They looked like walls.
Like executioners.
Like punishment given bodies.
One of them stepped forward and pointed toward a group of children standing in the open space ahead.
"Join them."
Chaos looked over.
The others were already there.
Boys around his age, all dressed differently, all carrying the weight of the families that had sent them. Some looked afraid. Some looked angry. Some looked too calm.
All of them were watching him.
Chaos stood fully, dust falling from his clothes.
His black leather gloves were still on his hands.
He looked once toward the empty stretch of desert behind him, where the car had disappeared and taken the last piece of home with it.
Then he turned back.
Without a word, he walked toward the others.
The guards watched in silence.
And just like that, Chaos Riegrow entered the Underworld.