"Mark Chen's family," Jack said. "His wife and two daughters. We've had them locked up in the cells beneath the southern warehouse since we learned Chen was connected to Darius Kane. Remember? I ordered them grabbed two weeks ago as insurance."Marcus nodded. "Right. The wife—Sarah Chen, mid-thirties. And the daughters—Emma, age nine, and Lily, age seven. They've been held in relatively decent conditions. Fed, given basic necessities. No major harm."

Last Updated : 2026-03-23

Jack Morrison stepped out of the farmhouse into the cold night air, his breath misting in the darkness as he surveyed the scene before him. His men—what remained of them after the warehouse fire and subsequent disasters—stood in scattered groups across the overgrown yard, their faces illuminated by flashlights and the glow of cigarettes. They looked exhausted, defeated, like soldiers who'd just returned from a battle they'd lost before it even began.The atmosphere was thick with tension. Every man present knew they'd failed. Every one of them understood what that failure meant for their boss—and potentially for themselves.Jack's sharp eyes swept across the gathering, counting heads, cataloging faces. His gaze moved methodically from one cluster of men to the next, his expression unreadable in the dim light.And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Jack Morrison began to laugh.It started as a low chuckle, barely audible over the night sounds of crickets and distant highway traffic. But it

Darius set down his phone after the call with Major General Douglas, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. The chess pieces were moving exactly as he'd anticipated. Jack Morrison's desperation had made him predictable, and predictable enemies were easy to outmaneuver.The plan to infiltrate Ricky Sullivan into Jack Morrison's organization had been set in motion three months ago, long before the warehouse fire, long before Jack had even thought to target Mark Chen's family. Darius had recognized early on that Jack Morrison represented a threat—not a major one, but enough of a nuisance that contingencies needed to be established.Ricky Sullivan had been the perfect plant. Former military, skilled operative, excellent actor, and most importantly, someone who owed Darius Kane a life debt from a mission years ago. When Darius had reached out and asked for a favor, Ricky hadn't hesitated. Eight years embedded in Jack Morrison's organization, carefully building trust,

"Yes," Darius said simply. "That's exactly what I'm going to do. And in the process, there's going to be violence. Retaliation. Desperate attempts by desperate people to save themselves. The kind of chaos that innocent bystanders—like Alessia—could easily get caught in.""Hence sending her away," Bill concluded. "Removing her from the battlefield before the final confrontation.""Exactly."Bill studied Darius for another long moment, his sharp eyes searching the younger man's face for something—truth, perhaps, or confirmation of character."I won't tell Alessia what you've revealed to me tonight," Bill said finally. "She's upset enough as it is. Learning that you're the God of War—that you're even more dangerous and involved in even more deadly work than she imagined—would only make things worse.""Thank you," Darius said."But Darius?" Bill's voice took on a harder edge. "I'm trusting you to finish what you've started. To actually deliver this justice you keep talking about. Because

Across the city, in a private recovery suite at Duskfort Memorial Hospital, Nigel Portman sat propped up in his hospital bed, looking significantly better than he had weeks ago when he'd first been admitted. The injuries from his confrontation with Darius Kane had been severe—broken bones, internal bleeding, significant trauma—but Nigel's youth and excellent medical care had accelerated his recovery.He was still bandaged and bruised, still moving carefully to avoid aggravating healing injuries. But the worst was past. He was alive. And more importantly, he was angry.Victor Hayes stood at the foot of the bed, a tablet in hand, delivering his daily briefing on the state of affairs in Duskfort. Victor was Nigel's most trusted assistant—a man in his forties with sharp intelligence and sharper political instincts who'd served the Portman family for over fifteen years."—and the Reskar family has officially announced their alliance with the Wesley-Romano coalition," Victor was saying, scr