The rain in Ironhaven didn’t wash things clean; it just made the grime slicker.At the edge of the city, where the skyline of glittering skyscrapers gave way to the rotting teeth of industrial slums, a solitary figure stood amidst the debris of a demolished lot. This used to be Sanctuary House, an orphanage for the forgotten children of the city. Now, it was a muddy wasteland slated for a new parking garage.John Vance stood perfectly still, his black trench coat heavy with water, his combat boots sinking slightly into the sludge. He was tall, with a physique that looked carved from granite, and a scar running through his left eyebrow that gave his sharp, handsome face a perpetual edge of danger.At his feet lay a shattered slab of concrete. Someone had spray-painted a single, crude word across it in neon pink: TRASH.This was the only marker left for Martha."I’m back, Martha," John whispered. The sound was swallowed by the wind. "I promised I wouldn't return until I could buy you

Julian Sterling gripped the podium so hard the wood creaked. Fear, cold and foreign, trickled down his spine. Master Hao was invincible. He had seen Hao kill men in underground rings. And this stranger had just swatted him like a fly."Who are you?" Julian demanded, his voice cracking slightly.Beside him, Elena gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth. She was staring at John’s face, specifically, at the scar through his eyebrow."John?" she whispered.The microphone picked it up.Julian whipped his head around to look at her. "You know this trash?"Elena was trembling. Tears welled in her eyes. "It’s... it’s John Vance. The boy from the orphanage. Everyone said he died.""Vance?" Julian’s eyes widened. He looked back at the man in the black suit. The memory clicked. The scrawny kid who tried to bite him fifteen years ago. The one he ordered his men to beat half to death."You," Julian laughed. It was a nervous, manic laugh. " The gutter rat! You survived? What, did you come back to beg

The armory inside the penthouse wasn’t just a gun rack; it was a cathedral of violence.A hidden wall in the master bedroom slid open silently, revealing racks of matte-black assault rifles, serrated combat knives, and tactical body armor. The blue LED lighting cast long, sharp shadows across John’s face as he stripped off his ruined suit jacket.Elena stood in the doorway, hugging herself. Her silver dress was stained with dust from the sniper attack, and her face was pale. She looked like a ghost haunting a war room.“You have a military arsenal in your apartment,” she said. It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.John didn’t turn. He pulled a Kevlar vest over his dress shirt, the velcro straps tearing through the silence.“I have enemies, Elena. Powerful ones.”“Is this who you are now?” Her voice trembled. “The boy who used to read poetry with me… is he gone?”John paused. He picked up a pair of tactical gloves, his thumbs running over the reinforced knuckles. He looked at his

The revelation hit John harder than any punch he had ever taken.Ivy. His sweet, innocent sister who used to cry when she scraped her knee. An assassin? A killer?"You're lying," John said, his voice low and dangerous."Check the files!" Arthur frantically pointed at the computer. "It's all there! The payments! The hit list! Chimera has killed twelve people in the last year. Politicians. Judges. She's Viper's masterpiece."John looked at the screen. He shoved Arthur aside and rebooted the terminal using a decryption drive Drax had given him.Files scrolled past. Photos.There she was. Older now. Twenty years old. Cold eyes. Holding a sniper rifle. Standing over a dead body in a hotel room in Paris.It was the same face from the photo in his pocket, but without the ropes."No..." John whispered.Victor Sterling, nursing his hand in the corner, started laughing. It was a wet, gurgling sound."Irony is a bitch, isn't it?" Victor sneered. "You came to save her, but she's the one who's goi