Ryker picked up the black pill from the bloody marble floor of the grand ballroom. He rolled the object between his thumb and index finger. The withered lotus engraving on the surface was unmistakable.​The poison had frozen his veins three years ago. The assassin was likely watching him tonight from the shadows of the city.​"Secure the perimeter," Ryker ordered.​Vesper Nguyen stepped forward and bowed her head. Her Vanguard operatives already had the remaining Zhou family thugs detained against the far wall. The broken body of Sledge Zhou was being dragged out through the service elevator.​"The assassin is gone for now," Ryker said. He slipped the poisoned pill into his tuxedo pocket. "But we have far more pressing garbage to dispose of before we hunt ghosts."​Ryker turned his attention toward the brass doors of the ballroom. Evelyn and Flint Lin were missing. They had slipped away during the chaos.​"Find my mother in law," Ryker commanded. "Bring the Lin family to the dockside

"Batch number four. Female. Sixteen years of age."​Chloe read the dark ink on the heavy parchment. Her voice trembled over every single syllable.​"Destination listed as the Iron Pits."​Ryker stared at the ledger resting on the metal vault desk. His jaw clenched tight.​Chloe dragged her finger across the page to read the margin notes.​"Subject transferred for manual labor," Chloe read aloud. Her stomach twisted into tight painful knots. "Subject exhibits high defiance. Recommended for the discipline pits if daily work quotas are not met."​Ryker gripped the edge of the metal desk. The steel bent under his raw grip.​"What are the Iron Pits?" Ryker asked.​Vesper Nguyen stepped through the shattered vault door. She held her tablet tight to her chest.​"It is a labor camp and underground fighting ring," Vesper reported. "Brock Hashimoto runs it. He is a ruthless underworld boss who answers only to the highest echelons of the provincial syndicates."​Chloe felt the color drain from h

"Fire."​Brock screamed the order from across the green felt table.​Fifty syndicate guards tightened their fingers on their triggers. The red laser sights painted a deadly grid across Ryker's crisp white dress shirt.​Brock smiled his wicked crooked smile. He wanted to watch the arrogant soldier bleed out on his casino floor.​Before a single firing pin dropped a new set of lights illuminated the casino.​Hundreds of solid green laser dots cut through the dark ocean night outside the massive bay windows. The green lasers painted the chest of every single syndicate guard in the room.​The heavy hum of high output engines vibrated through the hull of the luxury yacht. Dozens of cloaked Vanguard speedboats had surrounded the Leviathan in the dark.​"Drop your weapons," Vesper commanded. Her voice echoed sharply off the wood paneled walls. "Or my snipers will cut you in half."​The syndicate guards looked down at their own chests. Three green dots rested directly over every man's heart.

"Is this the famous dead husband?" Vargas asked.​Vargas laughed a loud obnoxious laugh. He reached into his cheap brown suit and pulled out a leather wallet. He flipped it open to reveal a shining silver government badge.​"I am City Inspector Arthur Vargas," he declared proudly. "I hold the legal and supreme authority of the municipal government. You take one step closer to me and I will put you in a federal prison for assaulting a protected civil servant. You will rot in a dark cell for the rest of your pathetic life."​Ryker stopped three feet away from the corrupt inspector. He looked at the heavy steel chains wrapped around the glass doors. He looked at the orange condemnation sticker defacing his wife's property.​Then he looked at his wife. Chloe was pale but her jaw was set tight in sheer defiance.​"What did you just ask my wife to do?" Ryker asked. His voice was a low dangerous rumble.​Vargas sneered. He felt invincible standing between two armed city police officers. He b

"Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees."​Chief Harris gripped his heavy service weapon with both hands. He aimed the black steel barrel directly at Ryker Zhao's chest.​A dozen corrupt city officials stepped up behind the police chief. They wore expensive tailored tuxedos and smug smiles. They felt invincible standing inside the Grand Heritage Hall.​"You picked the wrong room to play hero," Judge Sterling sneered. He adjusted his silk bowtie with a steady hand. "We are the law in this city. You are just a stray dog barking at a lion."​Zane Mori stood safely behind his wall of purchased politicians. He smiled a sociopathic smile. He enjoyed watching lesser men do his dirty work.​"Shoot him Harris," Zane commanded. "Claim he was resisting arrest. I will have the coroner falsify the autopsy report by midnight. Nobody will ask questions."​Ryker looked down the barrel of the loaded gun. He did not flinch. He did not show a single ounce of fear.​"You took an oath to pr