At Cairo – 6:10 A.M. The helicopter soared high above the sprawling desert, the dust and chaos of the compound a distant memory. The wind whipped through the open hatch, but inside, the small crew was silent, their bodies still tense. Cassia was leaning forward in her seat, eyes fixed on the dark horizon. Amira was staring out the window, her hand clutching her side, where a bullet had grazed her ribs. She refused to acknowledge the pain, but Darius could see the subtle wince on her face each time she shifted. “Pilot,” Darius barked, his tone sharp. “Get us to the safe house. Now.” The pilot, a grizzled veteran with scars across his face, nodded without a word. He adjusted the controls, and the helicopter angled toward the next waypoint. They were heading to a nondescript safe house deep in the Egyptian countryside, one that had been used by various operatives in the past. It was far enough

 At the Desert Compound – 3:00 P.M. The unforgiving desert sun beat down on them as Darius, Cassia, and Amira sped through the barren landscape in their convoy of four SUVs. The wind kicked up dust in swirling, violent gusts, but Darius barely noticed. His mind was consumed by the ghost of his father, the flickering image of that old man he once loved and trusted. Now, he was just a name—a pawn in a game far too dangerous for Darius to ignore. Amira was sitting shotgun, scanning the surroundings with her sharp eyes. She was still nursing her wounds from the previous skirmish but refused to let it slow her down. Cassia was in the rear seat, tapping furiously on her tablet, her focus unwavering. Darius wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or frustrated by her ability to work under pressure. But in these moments, he needed that from her. He needed answers. “I’ve cross-referenced the

The room was suffocating. The monitors bathed everything in an eerie, cold light. Santiago stood like a king in his domain, the glow of the screens reflecting off his sleek, dark suit. He had been waiting for Darius. It was no surprise to him. The whole trap had been set up meticulously. Darius’s pulse thrummed in his ears, his mind whirling with questions. How had Santiago known they were coming? Had he been tracking every move they made? Every step? His father’s betrayal was more than just a personal vendetta—it was a masterstroke of manipulation, and now Darius was standing face to face with the man who had orchestrated it all. “Expecting me?” Darius finally managed, his voice rough but steady. Santiago smiled, an icy, predatory grin. “I knew you would come. You’re too predictable, Darius. Just like your father.” The words hit Darius like a punch to