The morning sun crept tentatively through the thin curtains in the Dawson home, but it offered little comfort to the frigid atmosphere inside.Ethan Cole stood in the living room, his back straight and his face a blank slate. He had just finished scrubbing the floor—again—because Vivian Dawson, his mother-in-law, insisted she spotted “a speck of dust.”But dust wasn’t the real issue.She was hunting for ways to belittle him.“Three years living here,” Vivian barked, her arms crossed, “and you still can’t handle a simple chore. Are you really this worthless, Ethan?”He didn’t reply. He never did. Not out of weakness, but because this family didn’t have a clue who they were dealing with.To them, he was just an inconsequential son-in-law.The average guy who stumbled into their family with nothing to offer—no wealth, no prestige, no dignity.To the outside world—at least the one he had once been a part of—he was entirely different.Just as he was about to finish cleaning the final corne

For the first time in three years, the Dawson living room was enveloped in an eerie hush. No insults were hurled. No shouting filled the air. No commands directed at Ethan to clean, cook, or run errands. Just silence… and an undercurrent of fear. Vivian gripped the armrest of the sofa, her fingers trembling with anxiety. Tanya paced restlessly, her heels clicking unevenly against the tile. Both women avoided Ethan’s gaze.He lounged on the couch, appearing calm and collected, as if the chaotic events of the past ten minutes were merely a passing breeze.Finally, Vivian forced herself to speak. “A–Are those people… really working for you?”Without glancing in her direction, Ethan replied, “Why the sudden concern? You seemed so confident just a moment ago.”Vivian recoiled at the biting chill in his tone. It felt far removed from the “useless son-in-law” she had grown accustomed to. This was a voice that commanded respect—someone unsettlingly powerful.Tanya attempted to chuc

Night settled over the neighborhood, quiet and ordinary on the surface. But Ethan felt the difference instantly.Pressure.A shift in the air.Predators pretending to be shadows.He didn’t stop walking.He didn’t slow down.But he knew:Marcus Slate had already made his first move.THE MEN IN THE ALLEYThree blocks from the Dawson residence, Ethan turned into a narrow alley. Not because he needed a shortcut—because he sensed the trap waiting for him.The moment he stepped in, the exit behind him closed.A tall man in a leather jacket stepped out.Another dropped from a low rooftop.A third leaned against a wall, flipping a metal baton.They surrounded him with the confidence of men who had done this many times.The leader smirked.“Ethan Cole. The prodigal son returns.”Ethan’s expression didn’t change.“You talk too much.”The man blinked—caught off-guard.Then he laughed.“You don’t even want to know who sent us?”“Marcus Slate,” Ethan said calmly.All three froze.Ethan sighed.“I

The hotel Ethan chose was deliberately ordinary—an old, eight-story building with flickering corridor lights and peeling wallpaper. A place no one would expect a war.Ethan checked in under the name Daniel Gray.No luggage.No questions asked.Commander Hale waited by the stairwell, pretending to read a newspaper.“Room 608, sir,” Hale whispered as Ethan walked past.“Scorpion Unit has been sighted three blocks away.”“Good,” Ethan replied.“I want them to find me.”THE SCORPION UNIT ARRIVESThree black vans stopped in the alley behind the hotel.Twelve men stepped out—uniform black gear, reinforced suits, dual weapons. Their movements were synchronized, disciplined, silent.These were not street thugs.They were assassins, trained in eliminating high-value targets.Their captain, a scarred man with cold eyes, spoke into his mic:“Objective confirmed. Eliminate Ethan Cole and retrieve proof of kill. No survivors. No witnesses.”They split into formation:Team A: Roof penetrationTeam

The street was silent.Too silent.A thin layer of fog drifted across the asphalt as Ethan moved to the center of the road—straight-backed, expression calm, hands loose at his sides.Hale stood behind him, tense but ready.“Sir… Black Serpent is sixty seconds away.”Ethan didn’t blink.“Good.”THE APPEARANCE OF DEATHThe fog shifted.The first figure stepped through—tall, armored in matte black, visor glowing faintly red.Then another.Then ten more.Twelve soldiers.Twelve lethal machines disguised as men.They formed a wide semicircle around Ethan, their synchronization disturbing.No breathing.No speaking.No hesitation.Their leader stepped forward.“TARGET CONFIRMED: ETHAN COLE.THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME.EXECUTION PROTOCOL: OMEGA.”Hale whispered,“They’re using Omega Protocol… sir, that’s kill-without-recovery.”Ethan stepped one inch forward.“Protocol won’t help them.”THE FIRST STRIKEThree Black Serpent operatives lunged at once—perfect formation, zero wasted movement.Ethan m