2:59 A.M. Location: Goodman Private Airfield – “The Nest”A swarm of black drones hovered above the burning treeline, lenses zeroed in on Jeffrey Goodman, the long-lost heir now framed in the flames of the past. On their screens, Eleanor’s cold, ageless face smiled.“You survived the Hollow Grounds. I must say, I’m impressed.”Her voice was sweet venom. “But then again… you always did have your father’s knack for ruin.”Jeffrey raised a pistol toward the lead drone. “I also have his knack for revenge.”Eleanor’s smile didn’t fade. “Is that what this is? A vendetta? You come back from exile like some wounded beast… dragging ghosts behind you?”Camilla’s voice crackled in Jeffrey’s earpiece. “We have to go. I don’t think she’s just watching. Those drones are armed.”Eleanor continued, voice sharp now. “You still don’t see the game, Jeffrey. You think this ends with me. But I’m not your enemy.”She leaned closer to the camera. “I’m the last protection you have from what’s coming.”A targ

The steel restraints bit into Jeffrey’s ankles, cold metal gnawing through fabric and skin as alarms shrieked like sirens in hell. The throne chamber pulsed with red light, bathing everything in a sickening glow.The sound of Eleanor’s laughter echoed from the walls, cruel and triumphant, while the screens still flickered with his face, every triumph, every betrayal, every scar burned into memory.Jeffrey’s chest heaved with rage. His hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles cracked. Across from him, two cages stood like judgment itself: one holding Henry Goodman, his father, battered and broken, yet alive and the other containing Zero, his loyal ghost, bloodied and gasping.And between them, stepping out of the shadows, came The Reaper. The masked assassin’s boots struck the steel floor with deliberate rhythm, each step echoing like a death toll.The crimson scythe dragged behind him, its edge glowing as if hungry for flesh. He raised his head, dark visor gleaming, and spoke in

The dagger’s edge flashed silver, screaming toward Jeffrey’s throat. Time fractured into heartbeats. He barely twisted aside, steel grazed his neck instead of puncturing his jugular.Blood sprayed hot across his collar, the sting searing his nerves. With instinct older than thought, Jeffrey’s hand shot out, clamping Asher’s wrist in a bone-crushing grip.The blade trembled inches from his windpipe. Both men snarled, muscles straining, sweat dripping, blood smearing their faces. The chamber echoed with the grind of metal against desperation.“You never learn,” Jeffrey hissed, veins bulging in his forearm. “Every trick you pull, I see coming.”Asher spat blood, laughter twisted into madness. “Then why are you still bleeding, brother?”With his free hand, Asher slammed a knee into Jeffrey’s ribs. Pain cracked through his side like lightning. Jeffrey coughed blood, but his grip did not falter. He twisted, bones snapping beneath his palm.Asher screamed as his wrist broke. The dagger clatt

The sword came down like lightning. Steel shrieked against marble as the intruder’s blade split the floor where Jeffrey had been standing seconds earlier.Knox had ripped him back just in time, both of them crashing into the rubble. Sparks still hissed from the impact when the red-clad soldiers surged forward, rifles blazing.The throne room erupted into carnage again. Jeffrey’s pistol was still raised, his finger brushing the trigger, aimed at the Reaper.But the Reaper wasn’t even looking at him anymore. His attention was locked on the newcomers, eyes narrowing with a flash of recognition.“Hellfire Legion,” he muttered, voice low, dark. “Of all the devils to crawl out tonight…”Jeffrey didn’t know the name, but the tone told him everything. These weren’t mercenaries. They weren’t opportunists. They were worse, wolves who had come for blood.The Reaper was a blur again, his rifle kicking thunder, his knife flashing. One soldier dropped with a hole through his visor, another with his

The scream didn’t end. It echoed from the pit long after Camilla’s body was swallowed by fire, a sound that tore through the marrow of Jeffrey’s bones.He stumbled forward, his hand outstretched, as if sheer will could drag her back from the inferno. But the fissure had closed around her, leaving only a thin red glow and the smell of burning flesh in the air.For the first time since his exile, Jeffrey Goodman felt powerless.“No ” His voice broke. He slammed his fists against the stone floor, blood mixing with soot. “No!”Zero was already on his knees, clawing at the fissure as if his bare hands could rip it apart. His usually cold eyes were wild, burning with desperation.“Camilla! Camilla!” His voice cracked on her name, and Jeffrey realized something he had never seen before in Zero: pure, unrestrained panic.Henry collapsed against Knox, muttering frantic prayers, his rosary clutched so tight his knuckles bled. And then there was the Reaper. Silent. Motionless. Watching.Jeffrey’