The fire roared behind them, painting the underground garage in hues of crimson and gold. The heat seared Ethan’s face, the acrid stench of burning gasoline clawing at his throat.He coughed violently, stumbling backward as the figure emerged through the blaze like a demon summoned from hell itself.The steel-masked man’s boots struck the concrete with deliberate, unhurried force. Each step echoed over the chaos, drowning out the ringing in Ethan’s ears.In one gloved hand, he held a massive weapon, a rifle modified with attachments Ethan didn’t recognize, its black surface gleaming menacingly beneath the garage lights.The red scope burned like an unblinking eye, fixed squarely on Ethan.Beside him, the man in black didn’t move, his posture coiled like a predator about to strike. “Stay low,” he ordered, voice taut, every syllable sharp with restrained tension. “And don’t, whatever you do, freeze.”Ethan swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the pistol he barely knew how to use. “Who

The ballroom of the newly acquired Windsor Tower glittered like a sea of diamonds. Crystal chandeliers bathed the vast hall in golden light, while the polished marble floors reflected every shimmer.Champagne glasses clinked, orchestral music hummed softly in the background, and the wealthiest of the wealthy paraded through in their finest attire. This was more than a celebration. This was a statement.Alan stood at the center, dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his tall frame. He wasn’t just attending the event, he was hosting it.Windsor Tower, once the stronghold of one of his fiercest corporate rivals, was now under his control. Acquiring it had been brutal and costly, but tonight was proof: he had triumphed.But beneath the polished smiles and lavish décor, something darker pulsed through the evening. Alan felt it in the pit of his stomach.He had learned to trust his instincts, instincts that had been sharpened by betrayal and forged through survival. And those in

The blade came down with merciless speed. Alan twisted at the last possible second, feeling the steel slice through fabric and flesh but missing his heart by an inch.The shock of pain jolted his senses, his survival instincts flaring alive like wildfire. Hannah’s scream still hung in the air as Alan seized the assassin’s wrist, forcing the knife away from his chest.The two collided with brutal force, bodies slamming against the balcony’s steel railing. The night sky yawned below them, thirty stories of nothing but wind and death.“Alan!” Hannah rushed forward, but the assassin pivoted, kicking the sliding door shut with a vicious snap that rattled the glass. She was cut off. Now it was only him and the killer.The masked attacker moved with chilling precision. Every strike was economical, every motion meant to end him.Alan blocked, parried, countered, his blood dripping steadily down his torso. Pain was secondary now. Focus was everything.“Who sent you?” Alan snarled, his voice lo

The city pulsed with unease. By dawn, whispers of Alan’s mother being alive had already leaked through the cracks of his inner circle. Some swore it was a hoax.Others believed it a death sentence. For Alan, there was no room left for doubt. He stood before the mirror, fastening his black shirt, movements precise, deliberate.His reflection was a stranger, eyes hollowed by sleepless nights, jaw rigid with fury. Hannah lingered behind him, arms folded tight, her voice breaking the silence.“You’re walking into a trap, Alan.”He didn’t turn. “I know.”“Then don’t go.”Alan finally faced her, his expression unflinching. “If it were your mother… if you’d spent half your life believing she was dead, only to find her in chains… would you stay behind?”Her lips trembled, but no words came. Alan picked up the folded photograph again, staring at his mother’s terrified face. “He wants me. He’s been building to this. If I don’t face him, he’ll come for you. For Marcus. For everyone.”The rain ha