Thane POVThe whole White House felt too quiet. Not peaceful, just wrong. Too much had happened in the last twenty‑four hours, and every part of me expected another strike. Even the air carried tension, the kind that makes you listen twice before breathing.I had barely stepped into the Situation Room when Martins rushed toward me.“Mr. President, a new video just dropped online,” he said, voice tight.I stopped. “Who’s responsible?”Martins swallowed. “Russell.”For a second, everything inside me froze, just like it always did when that man’s name came up. Russell, the shadow the world thought was dead. Russell, the crime lord with enough blood on his hands to drown a country. Viktor’s father. Damien’s mentor. And the invisible puppeteer behind every attack aimed at my family.“Play it,” I said.The screens around the room lit up. And there he was.Russell.Alive. Calm. Dressed in a dark suit as if he were announcing a corporate merger instead of war. His silver hair brushed back nea

Forger and Calvin POVCalvin peeked over the edge of the bunk they had been forced to sleep on. Forger sat cross-legged on the floor, fidgeting with the ropes that bound his wrists.We had been here for hours—maybe even a full day. The dim light barely lit the corners of the room. No one had come to check on us since the masked men who captured us left the last time. The only sounds were the muffled voices of the guards outside, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor.Calvin leaned closer to the door, whispering. “Do you hear that?”I tilted my head. “Yeah… they’re talking about someone named… Russell. And something about a plan.”Calvin’s eyes widened. “Russell? That’s the man Dad warned us about. The one who… who…” His voice trailed off. He swallowed hard.I clenched my fists. “He’s the one who took us. He’s the reason Dad’s been on edge. He’s dangerous. But maybe… maybe we can use this.”Calvin nodded. “We have to help Dad. We can’t just sit here. We need a way to fight back.”

Thane POV Thane barely slept after studying the map Calvin found. His mind kept replaying every detail—the long tunnels, the hidden chambers, the supply routes, the underground exits that stretched miles beneath the abandoned military prison. Whoever built that underground network wasn’t just preparing for an attack. They were preparing for a war. A long one. A silent one. A war meant to drag the United States into chaos until people begged on their knees for mercy.He stood in the Situation Room before sunrise, staring at the hologram projection of the tunnel map Martin had enlarged overnight. His fists were clenched on the table, jaw tight.“We’re going in soon,” Thane said, his voice low and steady. “This operation will break Viktor’s backbone. If we shut down these tunnels, they lose their soldiers, their weapons, their escape routes, everything.”Martins stood beside him, arms folded. “Yes, Mr. President. But we need to be careful. Viktor won’t leave this place unguarded. This w

Thane POVThe deeper we moved into the underground tunnel, the darker everything became. The air felt heavier, thicker, almost like the walls were closing in on us. My flashlight cut through the shadows, revealing old pipes, rusted doors, and dripping ceilings. It was like walking into a grave. My boots crunched on broken stones, and Martins stayed close to my side, scanning every corner with his rifle up.“Sir,” Martins whispered. “Movement ahead.”I raised a hand, ordering silence. The soldiers froze instantly.Then I heard it—footsteps. Light, fast, and familiar. Like someone running with confidence, not fear. Someone who knew this tunnel better than we ever could.And then, from the darkness, a voice echoed.“You took too long, Kaelor Thane.”I didn’t need a name. I knew that tone. That arrogance. That hatred.Sahil Riyas Jr.The son of the terrorist I had killed decades ago. The son who swore he would destroy everything connected to me. The son who resurfaced, working with Viktor

Thane POVThe blood-stained dog tag sat heavy in my palm, a constant reminder of Dylan and the stakes we faced. For a long moment, I just stared at it. The quiet hum of the White House around me felt almost deafening. Outside, the city moved on, unaware that the war had already reached the steps of their government, that their president’s family had been kidnapped, that their freedom had been threatened by Viktor, Sahil Jr., and Russell.I turned to Martins, who had been standing silently at attention. “Martins,” I said, voice low, controlled, “prepare the press room. It’s time the citizens hear from me directly. No filters. No lies. No excuses.”His eyes narrowed with concern. “Sir… this is risky. With the recent threats, the kidnappings… going public could give Viktor leverage.”I slammed my fist on the table. “Let him use it. Let him see that fear doesn’t control me. Let him know that I am the God of War, that I protect this nation and my family no matter what. If they want to chal