The address Sasha's contact gave him was an old warehouse on the waterfront.Dante approached through the fog. His weapon was drawn. His senses were sharp.The building was abandoned. Broken windows. Rusted doors. But lights glowed from inside.Someone was home.He found a side entrance and slipped through. The interior was vast. Stacked crates. Dusty equipment. A single light burned in the center of the floor.And beneath it, a man sat in a chair.Old. Gray-haired. Familiar.Kessler.Dante's blood went cold. The man who'd trained him. The man who'd made him. The man who'd been pulling strings from the shadows for years."Cross." Kessler's voice was calm. Measured. "I wondered when you'd find me."Dante stepped into the light. His weapon was raised. "You're the mole. The second source. You've been feeding information to Webb. To Aldrich."Kessler nodded slowly. "I have.""Why?""Because it was necessary." Kessler stood. "Because you were never meant to be a cleaner, Cross. You were me

Dante needed a new strategy. Every move he made, someone anticipated it. Every safehouse, every meeting, every plan—they were all compromised.He sat in the dark motel room, staring at the map spread across the bed. Red dots marked known network locations. Blue dots marked his safehouses. Yellow dots marked potential Aldrich hideouts.Naomi sat across from him, watching. "What are you thinking?""I'm thinking I've been reacting. Every time they move, I follow. That's what they expect." He tapped the map. "I need to make them react to me.""How?""By giving them something they can't ignore." He pulled out his phone. "I'm going to leak a location. A meeting. I'll tell different people different places. Whoever shows up where I'm not supposed to be is the traitor."Naomi's eyes widened. "That's risky. They could just send a kill team.""That's exactly what I want. I want them to reveal themselves." He met her eyes. "I need your help. I need you to spread the word. Tell Viktor I'll be at

Dante stared at the list on his laptop screen. Twenty-three names. Twenty-three people who had conspired to murder his family. Twenty-three people who had covered it up and continued to prosper while he'd been molded into their weapon.His hand moved to the mouse. He scrolled through each entry. Most were strangers. Shadows from his past. But some he recognized. Agency officials. Military contacts. One name in particular made his blood run cold.Senator Aldrich.He was already dead. Dante had killed him on the airstrip. But the others were still alive. Still protected. Still running their operations.Naomi leaned over his shoulder. "That's a lot of names.""They're all connected. All part of the same conspiracy." He pointed to the screen. "This one. General Morrison. He was the one who authorized the operation that killed my parents.""And the others?""Supporting roles. Intelligence. Logistics. Cover-ups." Dante closed the laptop. "They all knew. They all participated.""What are you

Dante sat alone in the dark motel room, staring at the drive in his hand.Sasha's information. The locations of the remaining eight names. The people who had orchestrated his parents' murder. The people who had destroyed his life.He plugged the drive into his laptop. The files opened. Names. Photographs. Addresses. Security protocols.The first name was General Morrison's deputy. A man named Colonel Vance. He was hiding in a safehouse on the outskirts of the city. Heavily guarded.Dante memorized the details. Then he closed the laptop.Naomi was still in the next room. He could hear her crying. Soft. Muffled. She thought he couldn't hear her.He wanted to go to her. Wanted to hold her. Wanted to tell her everything would be okay.But it wouldn't be. Nothing would ever be okay again.He checked his weapons. Loaded his magazines. Strapped a knife to his ankle.Then he walked out of the motel and drove to Vance's location.---The safehouse was a converted farmhouse on the outskirts of

Dante stood at the window, watching the sun climb over the city skyline. The light was harsh, unforgiving, revealing every crack in the pavement, every stain on the walls.His reflection stared back at him. Hollow eyes. Gaunt cheeks. A man who had lost everything and had nothing left to lose.His phone buzzed on the table. He ignored it.It buzzed again. And again.Finally, he crossed to the table and picked it up.Sasha. Seven missed calls. Three messages."Cross, pick up. Something's happened.""We need to talk. Now.""The network isn't dead. There's a new leader. Someone you know."Dante's blood went cold. He called her back.She answered on the first ring. "Finally. Where have you been?""Processing." His voice was flat. "What's going on?""There's a new player. Someone who's been in the shadows the whole time. Someone who's been pulling strings while we were fighting each other."Dante's jaw tightened. "Who?""Naomi."Dante's hand tightened on the phone. "That's not possible. She