The blade came down, fast, precise, deadly. Gregory twisted, barely escaping a fatal blow. The assassin’s blade scraped across his ribs, drawing blood.Pain screamed through him, but adrenaline kept him on his feet. He stumbled back, eyes wide as the attacker emerged from the shadow. Another mask. Another mystery.This one wore a suit patterned in fragmented glyphs, as if he were stitched together from pieces of the past itself. His movements were inhumanly fluid, almost spectral. Not a soldier. Not a harbinger. Something worse. “What is that?”Naomi gasped, pulling herself to her feet. Gregory didn’t answer, he couldn’t. The air around the assassin shimmered. Time seemed to stutter every time he moved.One moment he was there, the next he was across the chamber, striking again. Gregory raised his arm to block the second blow.Sparks flew as the blade met metal, the bracelet! It reacted to the attack, expanding into a shield that repelled the strike with a burst of energy.The assassi

The ruins of the estate stood silent under the pale morning sky, ash still drifting like whispers of a nightmare now past. The storm had subsided, but the scars remained, in the land, in the air, and in the hearts of those who survived it.Gregory stood at the edge of the crater that once housed the underground hall. His jacket was torn, his face streaked with dried blood, soot, and sweat.Yet in his eyes burned a fire that no enemy, no betrayal, no legacy could extinguish. The ghosts of his past no longer haunted him, they now marched behind him, fueling his purpose.Around him, the aftermath of the war revealed itself in stark silence. Logan stood by his side, injured but alive.Naomi had survived too, though barely, clinging to life after saving Gregory in the final shootout. Tristan had disappeared into the smoke, his fate unknown.But Gregory knew this wasn’t over. Not yet. He turned as footsteps approached. Mr. Sutherland, once an ally, then a traitor, now something far more com

The night after the Voss takeover was sleepless. Rain lashed against the windows of the penthouse safehouse as Gregory sat in front of three glowing monitors, each screen loaded with fragments of encrypted code.Blake paced like a caged animal behind him, while Amelia, still shaken from the boardroom chaos, watched the city burn in reflection.“Nothing about this adds up,” Blake muttered. “Voss couldn’t have hijacked half the board without inside help. Somebody close to us opened that door.”Gregory didn’t look up. His eyes were locked on the code repeating endlessly across the screens, lines his father had buried in the system decades ago. “He did,” Gregory said quietly. “My father. He left it there for me.”Amelia turned. “You mean… the words that flashed on the monitors?”Gregory nodded. “Protocol Helix. I found references to it in his private notes before the fire. He wrote that it was his ‘fail-safe.’ Something he could never trust the board with.”Blake frowned. “Fail-safe for w

Snow fell like ash over the Rockies. The helicopter cut through the storm in silence, its red beacons blinking against the endless dark. Inside, the air stank of gun oil and blood.Gregory sat slumped in his seat, one hand clamped over his shoulder wound, the other clutching the encrypted drive. His vision blurred, but his mind refused to rest.Helix had gone public. The world was in chaos, headlines screaming, markets crashing, governments scrambling to deny the revelations. Yet the fire in his chest wasn’t victory. It was warning.Blake looked up from his comms. “Every outlet’s running the Helix data dump. Half the Voss Syndicate’s under arrest, the rest are disappearing underground.”Gregory’s voice was hoarse. “That’s what they want us to see.”Amelia frowned. “What do you mean?”He stared at the drive. “Helix wasn’t the top layer, it was a door. My father designed everything in mirrors, dual systems. He knew if one side was corrupted, the other would still survive.”Blake narrowe

The Atlantic wind cut through Gregory like a knife as he climbed onto the rescue craft. The storm had passed, but the ocean still heaved with restless energy.He was bleeding, exhausted, and hollow, yet the fight inside him refused to die. Blake caught him by the arm. “You look like hell.”Gregory gave a faint smile. “Feels about right.”Amelia hurried forward, wrapping a thermal blanket around his shoulders. “We lost your signal three times. We thought you”“Didn’t make it?” Gregory interrupted. “Not yet.”Blake frowned. “And the facility?”“Gone,” Gregory said quietly. “Buried under two miles of water.”Crane, who stood by the communications console, turned slowly. “Then it’s over.”Gregory’s eyes darkened. “No. It’s only begun.”Two days later, back in London. Caldwell Tower had become a fortress, sealed floors, blacked-out windows, servers running on isolated loops.Gregory moved through the top floor like a man haunted, every light flickering at his passing. Amelia entered his of