Kai's weapon cleared his holster in one fluid motion, muscle memory taking over before conscious thought could interfere. The guard's finger was already tightening on the trigger, the muzzle of his gun aimed directly at Aunt Martha's head.Kai fired a single shot.Center mass, just like he'd been trained. The guard jerked backward, his weapon clattering uselessly across the concrete floor as he collapsed. For one frozen fraction of a second, the entire warehouse hung suspended in shock, everyone processing what had just happened.Then chaos erupted like a dam breaking.Ten guards opened fire simultaneously, their weapons creating a deafening cacophony that echoed off the metal walls. Muzzle flashes strobed through the darkness, turning the scene into something out of a nightmare. Bullets whined through the air with that distinctive high-pitched scream, sparking off metal surfaces and punching through the drywall partitions that divided sections of the warehouse.Kai grabbed Julie with

Kai woke to white ceiling tiles and the steady beep of medical equipment, his right arm strapped to an IV stand with clear fluid dripping into his vein, his left shoulder wrapped in clean bandages tight enough to restrict movement. Pain radiated from the wound—dull, constant, but manageable—until he tried to sit up, when fire shot through his shoulder, forcing a gasp as he fell back against the pillow. "Wouldn't recommend that, sir," Reece said, stepping into view with arms crossed, his expression neutral but concern visible in his eyes, adding, "Welcome back."Kai's throat was dry as he croaked, "How long?" Reece replied, "Eighteen hours, you've been out since extraction." Eighteen hours—Kai processed that, trying to piece together what had happened after the warehouse, remembering collapsing, Julie's face above him, crying, the SUV, then nothing. "Martha?" he asked, and Reece assured him, "Safe, sedated in the next room, trauma and dehydration but no permanent damage, the medic says

The executive boardroom of Sterling Pharmaceuticals occupied the entire forty-second floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city and a twenty-foot mahogany table polished to a mirror shine. Twelve board members sat in leather chairs around it—eleven men and one woman, all over fifty, wearing expensive suits and careful expressions. Helen Sterling sat at the head, composed, spine straight, hair perfect, makeup flawless, but her eyes were strained, exhausted, while Derek sat to her right, staring at his folded hands. Richard Vance sat directly across from Helen, late sixties, silver hair, sharp eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, a twenty-year board veteran, respected, influential, and secretly funded by Marcus Blackwell for the last three years."Let's begin," Vance said, opening a leather folder and pulling out documents, declaring, "The motion before this board is a vote of no confidence in Helen Sterling's leadership as Chief Executive Officer of Sterling Pharmaceuticals.

Sterling Tower loomed forty stories into the night sky, a gleaming fortress of glass and steel housing luxury apartments for the city’s elite, with Derek Sterling’s penthouse claiming the entire twenty-fourth floor. At 2 AM, Kai and Reece approached, the empty street bathed in the long shadows cast by security lights. Reece gestured toward the underground garage ramp, his voice low. “Service entrance, freight elevator—minimal cameras. We can bypass the main lobby entirely.” Kai nodded, his shoulder throbbing, the bandage beneath his jacket damp with blood, but he pushed the pain aside.They descended into the parking garage, where concrete pillars stood under flickering fluorescent lights. Two security guards lingered at the service entrance, looking bored. Reece moved first, silent and swift, subduing the first guard with a chokehold before the man could react, rendering him limp in three seconds. Kai mirrored the move on the second guard, both takedowns non-lethal, and they dragged

Kai woke to darkness and the smell of salt water, his head pounding with throbbing pain behind his eyes, nausea rolling through him. He tried to move his hands but couldn't, his wrists zip-tied behind his back, his shoulder—the wound from the warehouse—burning, blood soaking through his shirt, wet and sticky against his skin. He was in a cargo hold, metal walls surrounding him, the space rocking gently with wave motion, clearly a boat. Listening, he heard the engine rumble, water against the hull, and distant voices, wondering how long he'd been out—minutes, hours?Kai forced himself to focus, to think tactically, as footsteps approached, growing closer, and light flooded in, blinding after the darkness, as the container door opened, revealing a silhouetted figure who said, "You're awake, good," in a female, professional, cold voice. Kai's eyes adjusted, recognizing Sarah Chen, a Protocol Black operative, ex-Mossad, one of the contractors who'd taken him from Sterling Tower, as she st