Dante moved immediately, positioning himself between the armed operatives and Emma's hospital bed, hands raised in non-threatening posture that still kept him coiled for action.The lead operative—tactical gear identifying him as professional contractor rather than actual law enforcement—kept his weapon trained center mass. "Dante Hayes, you're coming with us. The girl and woman too. Colonel's orders."Dante's voice remained absolutely calm despite adrenaline flooding his system. "You're making a mistake. This is a hospital. Innocent people in every room. Patients who can't move. You really want to start a firefight here?""Which is why you won't resist." The operative's smile was confident certainty. "You're not a monster who'd risk collateral damage. That's your weakness. Your conscience."Dante's mind raced through tactical scenarios with desperate speed. The operative was right. Fighting here meant patients caught in crossfire. Meant children in nearby rooms facing stray bullets.

Dante's mind processed the variables with mechanical efficiency despite blood loss slowing his reactions.Scarlett offering help was obvious trap. Every tactical instinct screamed it. But Vincent's life hung in the balance and impossible choices were all that remained.He checked his shoulder wound while the motorcycle idled at a stoplight. Blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage he'd applied from torn shirt. Needed medical attention soon or shock would become certainty rather than possibility.Adrian's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Boss, don't trust her. This screams setup. Multiple red flags. Scarlett's never helped anyone but herself.""I know." Dante accelerated through the intersection. "But if there's even a chance Vincent's not at the plaza, I have to check. Can't risk going to the wrong location while he dies at the right one."Isabella joined the channel. "At least let us provide backup. Remote surveillance. Drone coverage. Something to give you tactical advant

The building filled with smoke faster than Dante's training had prepared for, thick and choking, turning every breath into conscious effort.Two threats converging. Pierce's thirty armed operatives below, systematically clearing each floor. Fire spreading from the accelerant-soaked first level, climbing with unnatural speed through dry wood and accumulated debris.Dante grabbed Scarlett's unconscious form despite everything she'd done, despite the betrayal, despite knowing she'd tried to kill him minutes ago. Wouldn't leave her to burn. Couldn't become that person regardless of what she deserved.The team's voices overlapped through his earpiece. "Boss, we've got visual on three exits. All covered by Pierce's men. You're surrounded with no clear extraction."Adrian's frantic typing audible in the background. "Analyzing building structure through city records... there! Old freight elevator shaft, north side of the building. Leads to roof. The elevator's been removed but the shaft's sti

Matthews' voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Hello, Dante. Hello, Mr. Pierce. This playground is now under federal jurisdiction."Tactical helicopters materialized from the darkness, surrounding the burning rooftop with military precision. Black ops teams rappelled down from multiple birds, their movements synchronized and lethal. Within seconds, the roof was swarming with commandos in full tactical gear.Dante's radio crackled with Matthews' direct channel. "Drop your detonator or Miss Hayes and the child die. You have five seconds."His hand trembled over the trigger. Sophia. Emma. Hostages now. The CIA didn't make empty threats."Matthews!" Pierce was screaming, his composure finally cracking. "We had a DEAL! You promised me immunity if I delivered—""Deals change." Matthews' voice was ice. "You're both coming in. The Archive is U.S. property now."Dante let the detonator fall from his fingers. It clattered against the concrete, harmless. "Let Sophia and Emma go. They're in

Every screen in the city flickered simultaneously. Television broadcasts. Digital billboards. Phone screens. Traffic displays. The emergency broadcast system overridden by something far more sophisticated.The video began with Dante's face. Ten years younger. Military gear. Standing over kneeling prisoners in desert camouflage.The narrator's voice was British, cultured, almost apologetic. "This is the man your government wants you to trust. A killer. A war criminal."More footage rolled. Dante in black ops missions. A village burning behind him. Bodies in the street. The brutality was surgical, efficient, undeniable.Public reaction rippled across the city in real time. People who'd been evacuating from Nathaniel's attacks suddenly turned on rescue workers. Anyone near Dante's convoy. The mob mentality spread like wildfire.Matthews was watching on her tablet, her face draining of color. "Where did this footage come from?"Dante's expression was stone. "Those missions were classified