The Billionaire's leash: Kneel for me, Prince Chapter 62: Not on my watch

Sylvain lay in the massive master bed for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling as tears continued to fall. The gentle care Silas had shown him earlier only made the emptiness dull. He finally sat up, heart pounding with a desperate, reckless decision.

"I can’t just wait here," he whispered to the empty room, voice hoarse from crying. "Leon is suffering... bleeding... because of . I have to do sothing even if it’s stupid. Even if Silas kills for it."

He wiped his face roughly and slipped out of bed. The house was quiet — Silas was still out. Sylvain moved like a shadow, pulling on dark clothes and sneakers. He glanced at his phone. The countdown was still ticking.

2 days, 16hours, 47 minutes.

"I have to try," he muttered. "Father’s old house... maybe sothing was left behind. Maybe the COD 164 file is still there. I have to find it for Leon’s sake."

He crept to the service elevator at the back of the penthouse — a route he had noticed the cleaning staff use. His hands shook as he pressed the button. Every second felt like eternity.

"Co on... co on..."

The elevator doors opened. He slipped inside and rode it down to the underground parking level, avoiding the main lobby caras. Once outside, he hailed a taxi two blocks away, heart racing the entire ti.

"Old district, near Maple Grove," he told the driver, voice barely audible. "Please hurry."

As the taxi moved through the city, Sylvain stared out the window, whispering to himself.

"Leon, hold on. Big brother is coming. I’m trying... I’m really trying. Just don’t die. Please don’t die because I was too weak to protect you."

Tears slipped down his cheeks again. "If I had been stronger... if I hadn’t dragged you into this life... you’d still be smiling about your books and simple life. I’m so sorry."

The old family house appeared at the end of an overgrown street. It had been confiscated years ago after their parents’ disappearance, left abandoned and decaying. Yellow tape still hung limply from the gates, but it was torn and faded.

Sylvain paid the driver and waited until the car disappeared before slipping through a broken side fence. The garden was wild now — weeds choking the once-beautiful flowerbeds his mother had loved.

He approached the back door, heart hamring. The lock was broken. He pushed it open slowly, the hinges creaking loudly in the silence.

Inside, dust covered everything. Furniture was overturned, and drawers had been pulled out during previous searches by authorities. Sylvain moved through the rooms like a ghost, flashlight from his phone cutting through the darkness.

"Father... where did you hide it?" he whispered, voice echoing in the empty hallway. "COD 164. What even is that? Why is it so important that they’re willing to kill Leon for it?"

He started in the study — the forbidden room Leon had ntioned. The door was ajar. Bookshelves were half-empty, papers scattered across the floor. Sylvain dropped to his knees and began digging through piles of old docunts.

"Please... please be here," he muttered desperately. "Don’t make regret this please just let save him."

He flipped through old contracts, financial records, and letters. Nothing. No ntion of COD 164.

Tears blurred his vision. "Why won’t you help , Dad? You always said family cos first. But you left us with nothing but pain. Why?"

He moved to the master bedroom next, ripping open drawers and checking under the bed. "Mom... you were always so careful. Did you know about this? Did you hide sothing for us?"

Only dust and forgotten clothes answered him.

Sylvain sat on the floor in the middle of the room, sobbing openly now. "I don’t know what to do anymore. They’re hurting him. They’re cutting him. And I can’t find one stupid file. What kind of brother am I? What kind of son?"

He pulled out his phone and stared at the latest photo of Leon — bloody, terrified, broken.

"Leon... I’m here. In our old house. I’m looking for it. Just hold on a little longer. Please don’t give up on . I know I failed you, but I’m trying. I’m really trying..."

His voice cracked into ugly sobs. "I sold myself for you. I let Silas use every night. And it still wasn’t enough. Now they want sothing I can’t even find. What more do they want from ?"

He stayed on the floor for a long ti, crying until his throat hurt. Eventually, he forced himself up and continued searching — the attic, the basent, even behind loose wall panels. Hours passed. His hands beca dirty and raw.

"Nothing," he whispered in defeat, standing in the middle of the destroyed living room. "There’s nothing here. They took everything when they confiscated the house. Or maybe Father destroyed it before he disappeared. Or maybe it never existed..."

He slid down the wall, hugging his knees. "Leon... I failed again. They’re going to kill you because I’m useless. Because I’m weak. Because I couldn’t protect you."

Fresh tears fell as he rocked back and forth.

"What am I going to do? I can’t go back to Silas empty-handed. He’ll just use this against . But I have no choice. I have to keep looking. Even if it kills ."

The old house remained silent around him, a tomb of mories and broken promises.

Sylvain stayed there until the first light of dawn touched the dusty windows, saying incomprehensible words about his brother who couldn’t hear him.

____________

Silas sat in the back of his black sedan, as he reviewed the latest reports on his laptop. His encounter with those strange won, his mother and Santiago left him in a tight spot.

His phone suddenly rang, cutting through his thoughts, it was one of his surveillance team leaders.

"Mr. Vane," the man said urgently. "Sylvain left the penthouse. He snuck out through the service elevator. We tracked him to his family’s old abandoned house in the Maple Grove district. He’s been inside for over two hours now. Should we intervene?"

Silas’s jaw tightened. He closed the laptop with a sharp click. "No. Do not approach him. Turn the car around. Drive to the old house imdiately."

"Yes, sir," the driver replied, already changing lanes smoothly.

Silas leaned back, rubbing his temple. "Faster," he ordered. "He’s losing his mind. I can feel it."

The driver nodded and accelerated. "Understood, Mr. Vane. ETA fifteen minutes."

Silas stared out the window, voice low and tense. "What the hell are you doing, Sylvain? Running off in the middle of the night like a fool. Do you think you can save your brother by digging through dust and ghosts?"

The car sped through the streets, eventually turning into the overgrown neighborhood. The old Vale family house appeared at the end of the lane — dark, decaying, and wrapped in shadows.

Silas stepped out before the car fully stopped. "Wait here," he told the driver.

He pushed through the broken side gate and walked up the cracked pathway.

The back door was ajar. He stepped inside, the floorboards creaking under his shoes.

The house was a tomb of dust and forgotten mories. Papers were scattered everywhere and drawers were pulled out, and even the furniture was overturned.

And in the middle of the destroyed living room sat Sylvain.

He was on his knees, rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around himself. His clothes were filthy with dust and gri.

His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow, looking like a man who hadn’t eaten properly in ten years. His lips moved constantly, muttering incomprehensible words under his breath.

"Leon... files... COD 164... please... not dead... not my fault... devil... leave ... help him..."

Silas stood in the doorway for a mont, watching the broken man before him. Then he walked forward. "Sylvain."

Sylvain didn’t seem to hear him at first. He kept rocking, whispering frantically. "Can’t find it... they’ll kill him... my fault... all my fault... sold myself... not enough... Leon... forgive ..."

Silas crouched down and grabbed Sylvain’s arm firmly. "Get up."

Sylvain jerked violently, eyes wide with terror. He shook his head rapidly, trying to pull away. "No! No, don’t touch ! You’ll kill ! You’ll kill Leon too! The devil... the devil is here! Leave alone! I have to find the file! I have to save him!"

He didn’t seem to realize it was Silas holding his hands. His eyes were glazed, lost in a fever of fear and exhaustion.

Silas’s voice hardened. "Sylvain, it’s . Stand up. You’re coming ho."

Sylvain thrashed weakly, tears streaming down his dirty face. "No! You’re lying! You always lie! You’ll hurt him more! You’ll laugh while he bleeds! Let go! The devil must leave! I need to help my brother! Please... just let save Leon... I’ll do anything... just don’t kill him..."

His words dissolved into broken sobs. "Leon... I’m sorry... big brother failed you again... I looked everywhere... nothing... nothing left..."

Silas sighed heavily, a rare sound of frustration mixed with sothing almost like pity. "Enough of this madness."

In one swift motion, he hauled Sylvain up and threw him over his shoulder like a bag of rice. Sylvain kicked weakly, still muttering.

"The devil... take the devil away... I need to find the file... Leon is waiting... he is in pain... please... let go... don’t kill my brother..."

Silas carried him out of the house without another word, Sylvain’s desperate pleas echoing in the empty rooms behind them.

"Devil... leave ... I have to save him... COD 164... where are you... please... Leon... hold on..."

Silas loaded him into the backseat of the car. Sylvain curled up imdiately, still whispering frantically. "Don’t take back... he’ll punish ... he’ll let them kill Leon... please..."

Silas climbed in beside him and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number.

"Marcus," he said when the doctor picked up. "I’m bringing soone to your private hospital. Now. He is ntally broken, physically exhausted, and possibly dehydrated. Prepare a room for and he will need a full examination. Sedation if necessary."

Dr. Marcus’s voice was calm and professional. "Understood, Silas. What’s the patient’s condition exactly? Any visible injuries?"

"He looks like life has left him, he’s delirious. Just be ready."

"Room 4 will be prepared. I’ll et you at the entrance."

Silas ended the call and looked at Sylvain, who was still curled up, muttering.

"Leon... forgive ... I tried... I really tried... don’t die... please don’t die..."

Silas stared at him for a long mont, expression unreadable. "You’re not dying on my watch," he said quietly. "Not until I say so."

The car sped toward the hospital, carrying a broken man and the devil who owned him.