The tunnels ended at a massive, steel-reinforced door. Red lights blinked above it, humming softly. Dylan crouched, checking the floor for traps or sensors.Clara whispered, her voice trembling, “This… this is it?”“Yes,” Dylan said quietly. “Stay close. Watch everything.”Eli peered over Dylan’s shoulder, pointing at the keycard in his hand. “This… this will open it?”Dylan nodded, sliding the card into the reader. The door hissed, groaning, then swung open.They stepped inside, and the black site revealed itself: cold, sterile, and buzzing with fluorescent lights. Computers hummed. Strange machines blinked with green and red lights, cables snaking like vines along the walls. A few guards patrolled in pairs, their boots clicking against the polished floor.Clara’s breath caught. “Dad…”Dylan motioned for silence, pressing a finger to his lips. “We move slow. We watch. Nothing stupid.”Marcus leaned close, whispering, “How many guards are we talking about?”“Too many to count,” Dylan

“I—I didn’t—” she stammered.Dylan barked, “Get down! Now!”Anna obeyed like a puppet cut free, dropping behind a clothing rack. Her eyes fixed on Dylan, guilt and fear tangled together.An attacker moved in, trying to flank the group. He slashed at Marcus, who blocked and took a blow to the arm. Marcus growled and answered with a swing that sent the man reeling into a mannequin display. The attackers were disciplined—military precision in their movements—but Dylan had the environment: exposed wiring, broken escalator treads, narrow sightlines. He used them.“Which one of you sent her?” Dylan demanded as he parried a knife and answered with a short, brutal jab to the ribs that doubled the attacker over.The leader barked an order in a clipped tone. “Take the girl. Quiet the old man. The rest of you, sweep.”Clara’s father made a move, lunging toward Anna, but Dylan blocked him with a hard shove. “Stay with your daughter,” he snapped. “You’re a target right now. Your son survives becau

A nervous-looking executive whispered to the man next to him, “Does… does he have a gun?” “Maybe. Doesn’t matter,” the other replied. “It’s the look in his eyes… that’s worse than any weapon.” Dylan’s hand lifted slightly, tilting Rico forward. “Rico… every scream, every plea, every attempt to delay… it’s a mark against you. You had a choice.” “I—” Rico coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. “I made… mistakes!” “Every one of them has consequences,” Dylan said. “You see what I am, and you still think you can ignore me? That’s a gamble you’ve already lost.” Clara’s father whispered again. “Dylan… do you have to show them all this?” Dylan’s eyes flicked to him, sharp. “Sometimes, to stop the monsters, you have to show you’re no less than they are.” Marcus muttered, almost under his breath, “Monsters… he’s become one too.” Clara’s eyes widened. “No… he’s not a monster… he’s… he’s…” Dylan’s gaze swept across the room one more time, catching every stunned face. “Heed this,” he sai