The city never slept.Neon lights pulsed through the rain like veins of fire, and deep within its concrete heart, monsters wore the faces of men. For five years, they’d celebrated his death. For five years, they’d grown fat and powerful off the blood of the innocent. But tonight, something old stirred in the shadows. Something that refused to stay buried.Zayden Cross had come home.The hospital room was silent except for the slow, steady beep of the monitor. Zayden sat beside his son, staring at the small rise and fall of his chest. The boy’s skin was pale, veins faintly visible beneath. Every beep felt like a countdown. Every breath reminded him how close he’d come to losing everything.He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from the boy’s forehead. “Liam,” he whispered. “I should’ve been here.”His voice cracked — barely. The war had taught him how to bury emotion, but fatherhood had always been his weakest armor.Mia entered quietly, holding a tray of untouched food. “Y

The hospital corridor was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that hums with secrets.Zayden Cross stood by the window at the far end, his hood drawn low, watching rain streak against the glass. Down below, the city pulsed with light and noise — a world that kept moving while his own felt frozen.In Room 306, his son lay sleeping, breathing weakly through the hiss of oxygen. Machines blinked steadily beside him. Zayden’s reflection in the window looked almost human again — stripped of armor, hiding his bruises under a dark jacket. But inside, he was steel and fire.He turned as footsteps approached.“Mr. Cross,” came a soft, careful voice. “You shouldn’t be here after visiting hours.”Dr. Mara Holt. The woman who had promised to save his son. The woman Rafe claimed was working for Viktor Draven.Her white coat swayed as she walked closer, eyes gentle but guarded. She looked tired — the kind of tired that sinks into your bones after too many sleepless nights. Zayden studied her in sile

The rain hadn’t stopped for hours. It drummed softly against the hospital windows, washing the neon reflection of Akron City into streaks of red and blue.Inside Room 214, Luca Cross slept beneath the glow of the monitors. His breathing was shallow, chest rising and falling beneath the white blanket. The machines around him hummed — a steady, fragile rhythm of life that tethered Zayden’s war to meaning.A nurse adjusted the IV line, humming quietly. She smiled down at Luca, not knowing that monsters were already walking through the front door.---The InfiltrationAt 11:46 p.m., three figures stepped out of a black van parked near the emergency wing.No plates. No headlights.They wore maintenance uniforms — the kind hospital staff barely noticed. But under the fabric, holstered beneath their arms, were suppressed pistols and carbon blades.At their lead was Specter.Half of his face was burned from the fire at Warehouse 47, the skin jagged and pale beneath the fluorescent light. His

The fire from the Black Harbor still burned hours after Zayden walked away.He could see the orange glow reflected against the clouds as his motorcycle roared down the highway. Wind tore through his jacket, blood still wet on his temple. Every heartbeat pounded like a hammer against his skull — a reminder that he was still alive, though maybe he shouldn’t be.When he finally reached the safe house, dawn was just breaking — pale light spilling through broken windows. Rhea was waiting at the door, her face pale, eyes wide.“God, Zayden—” she gasped when she saw him. “You’re bleeding.”“It’s not mine,” he muttered, brushing past her.He staggered into the main room, dropped his weapon belt onto the table, and sank into the chair opposite Luca’s bed. His son was still asleep, small and fragile, unaware of the war his father was fighting in his name.Rhea followed him silently, bandages in her hands. “You should let me—”“Don’t,” Zayden snapped, his tone low and dangerous. “I just need qui

Chapter 10: The Tower of GodsRain lashed against the city like shattered glass. Lightning flickered across the skyline, illuminating the monolithic structure that pierced the storm clouds—Draven Tower.Zayden stood on the rooftop of a neighboring skyscraper, his armor humming with restrained fury. The HUD on his visor displayed multiple thermal signatures—guards, drones, and synthetic patrols. He exhaled slowly, the faint vapor escaping his lips like a prayer to a god he no longer believed in.> “Mara,” he said into the comm, voice low. “Status.”Her voice came through static. “You’re clear to breach. But once you’re inside, communication will cut out. Draven’s EMP barrier is live.”Zayden’s jaw tightened. “Then this is it.”He glanced once at the small photo clipped inside his gauntlet—Ava holding Liam. A life that had been stolen from him. A promise he had yet to fulfill.With a single leap, he plunged into the storm.The grappling hook fired midair, embedding into the tower’s meta