Charles struggled to rise, fury etched into his battered face. “Over my dead body.”Evelyn’s smile widened as mercenaries hauled her upright. “That can be arranged.”Marcus’s veins burned with helpless rage as he was dragged across the vault floor, the ledger now out of reach, his future slipping into shadows, but then, just as they reached the doorwayA new sound split the chaos. Gunfire, Rapid. Precise, Not from the mercenaries.The front line of soldiers crumpled, bullets tearing through their armor with surgical accuracy. Smoke grenades rolled across the floor, filling the air with a choking white haze.From the shadows beyond the vault, a second squad stormed in, black uniforms, visors gleaming, their movements sharper, cleaner, Not mercenaries. Professionals.The mercenary leader cursed, rallying his men. “Engage! Hold them off!”Bullets screamed. Steel sparked. Men fell.In the confusion, Marcus was dragged backward, his cuffs biting deeper into his wrists. He twisted, searchin

Marcus met his gaze, fists clenched. “Maybe Hilton is nothing but blood and lies. Maybe Father was right, maybe the ledger is all we are. Death in ink. Names in red.” His voice cracked. “And if that’s true, then I don’t want it.”For the first time, Elias’s mask faltered. Pain flickered across his eyes. Regret. But he crushed it quickly, his jaw tightening.“You don’t get to want,” Elias said coldly. “You get to be. Whether you like it or not, the world sees Hilton when it sees you. And the world will come. Tonight proves it.”Marcus turned away, chest heaving, the machete still dripping in his grip. He hated the truth in Elias’s words. He hated the blood on his own hands even more.The convoy roared through the last line of fire, breaking free of the Syndicate trap. Behind them, flames devoured the street, painting the night in red, but Marcus couldn’t shake the image of Evelyn’s smile as she vanished with the ledger.Nor the echo of Charles’s final cry. Nor Sophia’s scream swallowed

The feed cut, Marcus’s hands shook, his voice a low growl. “I’m going now.”Elias turned on him, storm-grey eyes like iron against fire. “You’ll do nothing. Not yet.”Marcus snapped. “Every second we wait, they cut her apart!”Elias’s voice thundered back. “Every second we prepare, we increase the chance she walks out alive!The room froze in the weight of their clashing wills.Finally, Elias spoke lower, but every word carried steel. “You want her alive? Then you’ll follow the plan. One mistake, and her blood’s on your hands.”Marcus said nothing. His silence was answer enough.Far across the city, in the Syndicate’s black site, Sophia tested the ropes biting into her wrists. Her breath came hard, her vision swimming from pain, but her mind refused to break.She remembered Marcus’s eyes, the way he had looked at her the day before his world collapsed. She clung to that look now, drawing strength from it.The masked commander entered again, carrying a phone. He crouched beside her, hi

The shot cracked like thunder in the cramped room. One Syndicate soldier dropped lifeless, blood pooling beneath him.The second prisoner flinched, cursing through clenched teeth. Marcus lowered the pistol, his hand trembling but his eyes steady now.Elias’s lips curved into something that might have been pride, or cruelty. “Better.”Marcus dropped the pistol onto the table, his voice low and raw. “Where is she?”Elias circled him like a predator, the squad watching in silence. “Somewhere only the Syndicate’s inner circle dares tread. A black site hidden in the sprawl. Getting there will take blood, deception, and steel. You’ll have to cut down men who know no fear. Break them before they break you.”Marcus clenched the scarf in his fist. “Then lead me there.”Elias shook his head slowly. “No. You’ll lead us.”Marcus frowned. “What?”“You’re Hilton,” Elias said. “That means when the enemy looks into your eyes, they should see more than a man, they should see the weight of an empire. T

A Syndicate sniper’s shot whistled past, Elias fired back, dropping the assassin, but the distraction was enough. Marcus slammed his elbow into Daniel’s wrist, the dagger skittering away. He rolled, pinning Daniel beneath him, pistol pressed against his brother’s temple.His finger hovered over the trigger. His hand shook violently. Daniel stared up at him, chest heaving, eyes blazing with defiance.“Do it,” Daniel spat, blood on his lips. “Prove you’re Hilton. Kill your own blood.”Marcus’s vision blurred with tears he refused to shed. His voice was a broken whisper. “You’re my brother.”Daniel’s bitter smile twisted. “Not anymore.”His hand shot to his belt, pulling a concealed pistol, A thunderous shot cracked the air.Daniel gasped, the weapon dropping from his grip. His eyes widened, shock and pain colliding. Blood bloomed across his side.Marcus froze, horrified, his pistol still unfired, behind him, Elias lowered his smoking gun, face carved in stone.“No,” Marcus whispered. He