The high-pitched, mechanical whir of the Marcone turrets recalibrating immediately met the roar of the opening door.The red optic sensors atop the control tower flickered, searching for the heat signature of the man stepping out of the armored shell of the SUV.Zarek didn’t give them a chance to lock on.He didn’t just throw the smoke canister; he launched it with a low, lateral snap of his wrist, skipping it across the gravel toward the gap between the SUV and the bunker door.As the gray chemical fog billowed upward, he reached into his tactical pouch and pulled out the metallic cylinder he had shown Gia earlier: the signal jammer."Gia, now!" he barked.He grabbed her by the back of her tactical vest, bunching the thick fabric in his fist as he hauled her out of the vehicle and into the smoke. The air was acrid, tasting of sulfur and dry ice.Behind them came the distinctive sound of the automated turrets opening fire.Clat!Clat!Clat!The bullets weren’t hitting them; they were

Looking back at the path behind them, Zarek’s eyes narrowed.‘He wanted the others to kill us,’ Zarek’s inner dialogue hissed. ‘He funneled the scavengers right behind us, told them we were carrying the crown, and waited for the meat grinder to start turning.’He looked at the scanner again.It wasn’t a gate; it was a trapdoor.By stepping through it, he was officially declaring war on every other Sullivan bloodline.“Put your hand on the plate, Gia,” Zarek commanded, his tone shifting from cold to glacial.“Zarek, if we do this, the others will never stop,” she whispered, her hand trembling as it hovered over the glass.“They’ve already started,” Zarek said, his eyes flashing with terrifying, razor-sharp clarity. “But Robert made one mistake. He thinks I’m playing for the post of Heir. He thinks I want a seat at his table.”He placed his hand on the right plate, the heat of his palm stark against the biting chill of the room.‘I don’t want the crown,’ Zarek thought as the red laser b

The video didn’t start with a face.It started with a sound, the heavy, rhythmic strike of a pen against a desk.The camera angle was high, hidden in the crown molding of Robert Sullivan’s private study. The man himself sat behind the desk, fifteen years younger but no less a statue of ice.Opposite him stood a woman with her back to the camera, but Zarek recognized the posture instantly.It was Masha.Her shoulders were rigid, her hands balled into white-knuckled fists.“I won’t let you do it,” Masha said, her voice raw, nothing like the version of her Zarek remembered.Desperate. Human. “He’s eight years old, Robert. You’re talking about him like he’s cargo.”Robert didn’t look up.“He is cargo. He’s the price for the northeastern shipping routes. The Marcones don’t want money, Masha. They want blood for the embarrassment your father caused them. They want a Sullivan heir to ‘educate’ in their own way. It’s the only way to secure the ports.”“You’re selling your own son?”Robert

It didn’t take long for them to return to the Sullivan estate.The massive wrought-iron gates groaned open the moment the SUV appeared. Shaw didn’t even park properly; he skidded to a halt at the base of the grand marble stairs.Zarek stepped out before the engine had fully died.He didn’t pause. He didn’t look at the damage to the car. His stride was predatory, his eyes hard enough to shatter glass.Gia scrambled out after him, boots clicking frantically on the stone.“Grisha! Wait! Just listen for a second—” she called, but he ignored her as if she were a ghost.Her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to keep pace.She had seen Zarek in the pits of the dry dock, had seen him kill without a blink, and navigate a battlefield with machine-like precision.But this was different. This wasn’t the cold efficiency of a soldier; it was the white-hot, concentrated fury of a man who had finally reached his limit.She knew he was pissed. More than that, she knew he was about to do s

Robert liked being challenged by his own son.It reminded him of how things had once been between himself and his father.“I think you’re out of options, ‘Grisha,’” Robert countered, leaning back against the sideboard, his hand held out. “The Marcones are coming. The guards are waiting. And a killer is standing behind you. Give me the ledger.”Zarek reached into his tactical vest.The guards’ fingers tightened on their triggers.Giorgia pulled Gia back another step, burying her daughter’s face in her shoulder.Zarek pulled out the encrypted drive.It was small, silver, unassuming, and held enough explosive information to level the Sullivan name forever.He studied it for a heartbeat, then lifted his gaze to the gathered siblings and wives.“You want to know who the traitor is?” Zarek said loudly. “Watch the floor.”With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the drive.It skittered across the polished marble, ringing like a bell as it slid toward Robert’s boots.Clink.Clink.Clink.The reac