The steel mill rose against the night sky like a corpse—rusted, skeletal, forgotten. Grayson crouched behind an overturned railway car, studying the thermal imaging on his tactical display. Twenty figures moved through the compound in coordinated patterns. Professional. Military-trained."Sarah's in the central building," James reported through the earpiece. "Third floor, northwest corner. Fifty hostiles in defensive layers around her position."Beside Grayson, Ava checked her weapon for the third time. Her hands were steady now—Natasha's brutal training had burned away the trembling. Matteo's fighters spread out in the shadows, waiting for the signal."This is suicide," Marco's voice crackled over the radio from his position on the ridge. "Even if we breach, we'll be cut down before reaching her."Grayson's jaw tightened. "Then we don't breach. We collapse the building from above. Force them out."Natasha emerged from the darkness, her tactical vest laden with C-4 charges. "Support b

The hospital's fluorescent lights hummed like dying insects. Twelve hours had passed since the steel mill exploded, and County General's emergency wing looked like a war zone. Grayson sat on an examination table, second-degree burns wrapped in gauze across his arms and neck, while a nurse applied silver sulfadiazine cream to the worst areas."You're lucky these aren't third-degree," she said, not looking up from her work. "Any closer to that blast and you'd be looking at skin grafts."Grayson didn't respond. Lucky wasn't the word he'd use.Two rooms down, Ava lay on a bed with a concussion, doctors monitoring her pupils every thirty minutes. The shockwave had slammed her head into the vehicle's door frame hard enough to split skin. Seven stitches across her temple, hidden beneath her hairline.Natasha occupied the room between them, broken ribs taped, refusing pain medication because she didn't trust hospital drugs. "Worked in a Russian field hospital once," she'd told the doctor. "Saw

Grayson's team moved through the tree line bordering Fort Braxton, each step calculated to avoid detection. Two hundred of Carter's mercenaries surrounded the military compound in organized formations—fifty at the main gate, clusters of twenty at each cardinal point, mobile units patrolling between positions. Professional deployment. Military precision."This is insane." Matteo's whisper barely carried over the distant gunfire. "He's attacking U.S. military on American soil. That's an act of war. Federal response will be overwhelming.""He's desperate." Catherine studied the battlefield through military-grade binoculars. "Marcus must have given him an ultimatum—deliver Ava and Harding's head or face consequences. The Triad doesn't tolerate failure."Inside the base's command center, Harding coordinated his remaining defenders through radio headsets. Fifty soldiers held defensive positions throughout the compound, but ammunition was running low and casualties were mounting. Three men d

Three seconds. Grayson's mind processed every piece of bomb disposal training he'd ever received, layered with years of field experience and the brutal mathematics of life and death. Red wire obvious. Blue wire standard. Green wire added late, not in schematics, Carter's last-minute modification."Ava, run. Get clear. If I'm wrong—""I'm not leaving you!"Two seconds. The plaza continued its oblivious lunch rush. A child laughed somewhere. A street vendor called out prices. Normal life, seconds from ending.Grayson made his choice. He grabbed the green wire and cut it.The timer stopped at 01.Nothing happened. No explosion. No radiation release. The device went completely inert, all displays dark.Grayson stared at the bomb for three full seconds, waiting for delayed detonation, for backup triggers, for anything. But the device was truly dead.Ava collapsed against him, her entire body shaking. Sobs tore from her throat—relief and terror mixed together. "How did you know?""I didn't.

Natasha placed the phone on the table, activating speaker mode. Everyone in the safe house command room leaned in, weapons drawn instinctively, as if Isabella could somehow attack through the cellular connection."You want Ava dead?" Grayson's voice was frozen steel. "After everything—after the construction site, the steel mill, the broken legs I gave you—you're calling to threaten her again?""I want my FATHER dead, General." Isabella's voice came through crystal clear, no hint of pain despite her injuries. "Marcus's terminal illness? The pancreatic cancer eating him alive? I'm the one who poisoned him."The room fell into shocked silence. Catherine's hand tightened on her weapon. Harding's eyes widened. Even Matteo, who'd thought nothing could surprise him anymore, looked stunned."I've been his prisoner my entire life," Isabella continued, her voice carrying decades of suppressed rage. "Forced to kill for him. Torture for him. Become a monster for him because that's what Wolfe daug