Angelo Don Santos cowered against the rear wall, his expensive white suit ruined by sweat and floor dust. He watched Alfred stand calmly beside Lily Mathew, waiting with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.Outside the underground estate, the heavy roar of military diesel engines shattered the quiet place.The ground shook as three heavy, black armoured troop carriers smashed through the outer perimeter gates. Within seconds, heavy combat boots stomped across the marble corridors. The doors of the grand hall were kicked open with a thunderous bang.Fifty armed military men surged into the room like a black tide.They wore full military tactical gear, night-vision helmets, and body armour, wielding high-calibre assault rifles. They quickly fanned out across the vast hall, training fifty laser sights directly onto Alfred’s chest and forehead.Behind the tactical unit walked a man in a dark military dress coat covered in international campaign medals.It was Warlord Philip Olson.Ol

Olson immediately snapped to attention, saluting. “Sir!”“Wipe every hard drive in this building,” Alfred ordered smoothly. “Destroy all security footage, tear down the server racks, and ensure my face and my presence here tonight remain a secret from the public and the city authorities. If a single word about my identity leaks to the outside world, I will hold you personally responsible.”Olson felt an icy chill run down his spine, but he saluted even sharper. “Understood, Supreme Commander! Every camera, hard drive, and server will be incinerated within fifteen minutes. Not a single soul outside this room will ever know you were here!”“Let the people leave, and remember to take care of the victim.”Olson nodded.Alfred gave him a thumbs-up. Without another word, he turned around, lifted Lily into his arms and carried her calmly out.•••••Inside a modest apartment on the third floor, Nora Mathew sat on the worn sofa. Her eyes were swollen from a sleepless night of crying. Her hands

Trembling violently, Joan pulled a plastic canister of industrial accelerant from behind the main electrical breaker panel. He splashed the clear liquid generously over stacks of dry wooden pallets, cardboard boxes, and open barrels of paint thinner near the main staircase.He pulled a cheap lighter from his pocket, struck the wheel, and tossed the small flame into the puddle.WHOOSH!An explosive burst of orange fire detonated across the ground floor.The accelerant ignited instantly, crawling up the wooden support beams and spreading across the dry pallets. Smoke quickly engulfed the central staircase.Joan turned and sprinted out through a small rear utility door, locking it behind him and fleeing, leaving the building to burn.Upstairs on the second floor, Angela was marking her tablet when a sudden crackling sound echoed from below, followed by the stench of burning oil and paint.Angela frowned, stepping toward the railing overlooking the central floor. “Joan, is everything alri

Inside the private VIP suite of the city Medical Centre, the steady beep of a heart monitor echoed softly through the silent room.Angela lay asleep on the hospital bed, a clear oxygen mask resting over her nose and mouth. Thanks to Alfred’s rescue and his discreet application of vital pressure point therapy before the doctors arrived, her lungs had been cleared of the toxic chemical soot. Her breathing was now smooth and natural.Alfred sat quietly in the chair beside her bed, his dark eyes watching her chest rise and fall. His expression was unreadable. His hand curled into a fist.Seeing that Angela was sleeping peacefully, Alfred stood up without making a sound. He stepped silently across the room, opened the door, and slipped out into the empty, dimly lit hospital corridor.He pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed a single speed-dial key.The line connected on the second ring.“Commander Alfred,” Sebastian answered. “How is your wife? Is there anything you want me to do f

Two hours later, deep in the deserted East Rockland complex, this was the private territory of Enforcer Armstrong, the most feared, bloodthirsty underground mercenary commander. Armstrong was a towering seven-foot mercenary veteran with a face scarred by shrapnel and cold, yellowed eyes. Armstrong didn’t care about luxury estates or illegal auctions. He cared only about raw firepower, cold cash, and slaughter.Inside the hollow dockland warehouse, forty professional mercenaries moved with precision.These were not street thugs or cheap syndicate guards. They were foreign ex-special forces soldiers clad in tactical armour, wearing infrared night-vision goggles, and armed to the teeth with high-calibre assault rifles, heavy machine guns, and shoulder-fired rocket launchers. Snipers took positions high up on the steel rafters, their laser sights tracing red lines across the wide, concrete floor.Standing in the centre of the warehouse, holding a titanium-reinforced combat axe, was Armst