Nathan stood in the darkness of the empty warehouse, staring at the photograph in his hand.The man's face was cold, hardened and familiar. He had seen him before. In the shadows. In the corners. In the background of his nightmares. He was one of the men who had killed his family. One of the men who had cut the brake lines. One of the men who had sent Sarah and Ryan off the road. One of the men who had watched them die.Nathan's fists clenched. His jaw tightened. His eyes hardened. The photograph crumpled slightly in his grip.The man's name was Dimitri Volkov. He was a former soldier. A mercenary. A killer for hire. He had been part of the network. He had been one of Blackwood's most trusted men. He had been the one who had done the dirty work. The one who had gotten his hands bloody. And now he was hiding. Waiting. Planning. Thinking he had escaped.Nathan folded the photograph carefully. Put it in his pocket. Walked to the door. His footsteps echoed through the empty warehouse. The

Nathan sat on the bus, staring out the window.The landscape blurred past him. Trees. Fields. Small towns. The city was far behind him. The hunt was far from over. Volkov was still out there. Still hiding. Still breathing. Still alive.Nathan's fists clenched. His jaw tightened. His eyes hardened.He had followed every lead. Searched every corner. Traveled to every town. And Volkov was always one step ahead. Always disappearing. Always moving. Always slipping through his fingers.He thought about Sarah. About Ryan. About the life they could have had. The life they would never have. He thought about the men who had killed them. The men who were still out there. The men who were laughing at him. The men who thought they had won.They were wrong. They had made a mistake. They had left him alive. And he would never stop. He would never give up. He would never rest until every last one of them was dead.***The bus stopped in a small town called Millbrook.Nathan got off. He had been here

Nathan stood in the center of the empty gym, staring at the heavy bag.The leather was cracked. Worn. Old. It had been hit thousands of times. By thousands of fists. By thousands of fighters. It had seen more blood than most men. It had absorbed more pain than most men could imagine.Nathan raised his fists. Threw a combination. Jab. Cross. Hook. The bag swung back. He threw another. Faster. Harder. More precise. The bag swung again. He didn't stop. Couldn't stop. The whole thing was hypnotic. The pain was numbing. The exhaustion was welcome.He had killed Volkov. He had avenged his family. He had destroyed the men who had murdered his wife and son. But the victory felt hollow. Empty. Useless. His wife was still dead. His son was still dead. Nothing would bring them back. Nothing would fill the void inside him.The heavy bag swung. Nathan hit it again. And again. And again. His knuckles were raw. His hands were bleeding. His body was screaming. But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop. If he

Nathan sat on the steps of the warehouse, staring at the rising sun. The city was waking up. Cars honked. People shouted. The world kept moving. But Nathan felt frozen. Stuck. Trapped in a nightmare he couldn't escape.His hands were still bloody. His knuckles were raw. His ribs screamed. His body ached. But the pain was nothing compared to the emptiness inside him.Dimitri Volkov was dead. The man who had cut the brake lines. The man who had watched his wife and son die. The man who had laughed as they crashed into that tree. He was gone. Forever.Nathan had killed him. He had avenged his family. He had made them pay.But the victory felt hollow. Empty. Useless.His wife was still dead. His son was still dead. Nothing would bring them back. Nothing would fill the void inside him. The rage was still there. The grief was still there. The emptiness was still there.Nathan stood up. Walked to the bus stop. His body ached. His mind was tired. But his heart was steady. He would keep fight

Nathan stood in the center of the room, his body broken, his knuckles bloody, his chest heaving. His legs shook beneath him. His ribs screamed with every breath. His vision swam at the edges. But he stood.Anton Volkov circled him like a predator. His eyes were cold. His face was hard. He moved with the confidence of a man who had never lost. A man who had never been challenged. A man who had never been afraid."You're impressive," Anton said. "I'll give you that. Most men would have died in the first round. Most men would have stayed down. But you... you keep getting up."Nathan's voice was cold. "I told you. I don't know how to stay down. But you thought I was joking"Anton smiled. "I know. That's what makes you dangerous. That's what makes you interesting. That's what makes you worth killing."Nathan raised his fists. His arms were heavy. His hands were numb. But he raised them anyway."Then kill me."Anton laughed. "Oh, I will. But not yet. I want to enjoy this. I want to watch yo