years ago, in the heart of London, two boys walked side by side — different in wealth, but identical in spirit.
Faisal— son of a wealthy businessman from Qatar, born into luxury, but always restless, always seeking something more.
Rayyan — son of a struggling cab driver, born into survival, but with fists that spoke louder than words.
Despite their differences, they were inseparable — because money couldn't buy loyalty, and poverty couldn't break friendship.
Wherever Faisal went, Rayyan followed.
Whenever Rayyan fought, Faisal stood beside him.
In the streets, they were just two schoolmates — but in their hearts, they were already brothers.
And in their minds, only one dream kept them moving: Money. Power. Respect.
When they moved to college, Faisal's life took a hard turn.
A car crash in Qatar — both his parents gone.
No siblings. No relatives.
The rich boy became an orphan overnight.
But before grief could swallow him, Rayyan's family opened their doors.
"From today, you are my son too," Rayyan's father said, placing his hand on Faisal's head.
The rich boy and the poor boy — now brothers by bond.
That bond became unbreakable.
It was a normal night — or so they thought.
A college party, some drinks, and then a walk home under the dirty London sky.
Their laughter echoed in the empty streets — until they heard it.
Screams. Fists. Two men being beaten in a dark alley.
Without thinking, Rayyan rushed in first — fists flying, rage exploding.
Faisal followed — quick, sharp, using his brain to outsmart instead of just fight.
Together, they took down three men.
But the fourth attacker pulled a gun.
The air froze. The street went silent.
Rayyan didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the gun, and in the struggle — the trigger fired.
The man dropped, lifeless, blood pooling at their feet.
It was the first time Rayyan felt the warmth of death on his skin.
The other attackers ran — but the two men they saved stood frozen, eyes wide with fear and gratitude.
Rayyan's breathing was heavy, his hands trembling, the gun still in his grip.
"What have I done?" he whispered.
Faisal placed a hand on his shoulder — calm, steady, already thinking ahead.
"You did what you had to, brother. We saved them. No one needs to know. We keep this between us."
The two men they saved stepped forward — their lives owed to Faisal and Rayyan.
"Whatever you need, anytime, we're with you. You saved us — and now we're your brothers too."
That's how it started.
Four strangers, bound by a single night of blood.
A pact was made — silent, but stronger than any contract.
"No one talks. No one runs. No one dies alone."
That night, they weren't Dons.
They were just four young men with blood on their hands, secrets in their hearts, and nowhere to go but forward.
They hid the body.
They wiped the blood.
They walked away from that alley — but the night walked with them.
It was the first kill.
The first bond.
The first step toward becoming legends — not because they wanted to rule the world, but because they couldn't let anyone else rule over them.
From that night on, they were brothers — not by birth, but by blood.
And from that bond, an empire would rise.
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End of Chapter 30