Michael's muscles ached in places he didn't even know existed. Two days of training with Brother North had left him feeling like he'd been hit by a truck, then backed over by that same truck for good measure. Every movement sent sharp reminders through his body of just how brutal his introduction to real fighting had been.He sat in Corner Café, one of the few places in Denver where he could still show his face without drawing unwanted attention. The restaurant was tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, far from the main business district where reporters and photographers might be lurking. Michael nursed a cup of coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes ago, staring out the window at the afternoon traffic.His phone buzzed with another message from the mysterious contact, but Michael ignored it. He wasn't ready to deal with cryptic advice and passive aggressive comments about his failures. Not today.The café's bell chimed as someone entered, and Michael glanced up reflexively. His stom

The office space wasn't much to look at. Third floor of a downtown building that had seen better days, with carpet that was trying to be beige but had given up somewhere around gray. The windows needed repairs, the air conditioning made concerning noises, and the elevator shuddered like it was having second thoughts every time it moved between floors.But it was theirs.Michael stood in the empty main room, hands on his hips, trying to picture what Sullivan Solutions Tech would look like once they got it up and running. The space had potential. Good natural light, decent layout, and most importantly, it was something they could actually afford."It's perfect," Alexis said, appearing beside him. She was dressed in jeans and a work shirt, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking ready to get her hands dirty. "Very startup chic.""You mean very broke chic," Michael replied, but he was smiling."Same thing, different attitude." She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures.

Michael was wrapping his hands with tape when Salvatore Russo walked into the warehouse. North looked up from where he was adjusting the heavy bag and, upon seeing Salvatore, he frowned. "What do you want, Russo?" North asked."I want to help train the boy," Salvatore said simply, removing his jacket and hanging it carefully on a clean hook he'd apparently brought with him."He's my student," North replied, crossing his massive arms. "I'm doing fine without your help.""I'm sure you are. But there are things he needs to learn that punching bags can't teach him." Salvatore rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms that were lean but clearly strong. "I'm not taking him away from you, North. He'll remain your student. I just want to teach him a few valuable lessons he'll need."North's jaw tightened. "What kind of lessons?""The kind that might keep him alive when someone tries to put a knife in his back." Salvatore's voice remained calm, but there was steel underneath it. "The kind tha

Michael was reviewing Octavian's files in the Sullivan Solutions office when his phone rang. The caller ID showed a number he didn't recognize, which immediately put him on edge. Unknown numbers had become synonymous with bad news lately."Michael Sullivan," he answered cautiously."Hello, Michael. This is Maxwell. I believe we need to have a conversation."Michael's blood turned to ice. "What do you want, Maxwell?""It's not what I want, brother. It's what you're going to do." There was a pause, followed by a sound that made Michael's heart stop. A woman's voice, muffled but unmistakably Alexis, saying something he couldn't quite make out."If you hurt her..." Michael started, his voice low and dangerous."Hurt her? Michael, I'm shocked. We're family. I would never hurt your lovely friend. Much." Maxwell's laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. "But accidents do happen, especially when people don't follow simple instructions."Michael gripped the phone so hard he was surprised it didn

The van was parked deep in the woods, tucked behind some overgrown trees that kept it out of sight from Maxwell's fancy estate. Michael tugged at the bulletproof vest North insisted he wear. It felt stiff and clunky over his button-down shirt. A pair of borrowed night-vision goggles rested crooked on his head, making him feel like he was in a video game."All teams check in," North's voice crackled through the radio headset."Salvatore's boys are posted out front," someone replied."We're creeping around back now," came another voice, one of North’s crew, moving through the woods."Backup team is ready to rumble," Esteban's hechman reported from somewhere in the darkness.Michael adjusted his earpiece and tried to calm his racing heart. Through the van's tinted windows, he could see nothing but black forest, but he knew that right now, armed men were moving through those trees quietly."Remember," North's voice came through clearly, "we just knock out the guards first. Nobody gets hur