The crowbar whistled through the air.
Kai sidestepped, the weapon missed his head by inches and cracked into the dirt beside his mother's grave, sending up a spray of dust and dead grass.
Before the leader—Marco, judging by the name tattooed across his knuckles, could recover, Kai moved.
His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Marco's wrist, a sharp twist. The crowbar clattered to the ground. Kai's other hand struck Marco's elbow, not hard enough to break, but precise enough to hyperextend the joint. Marco screamed, his arm bending at an unnatural angle.
Kai released him. Marco staggered back, clutching his arm, face twisted in pain and shock.
The other four froze for half a second. Then instinct kicked in and they charged.
The first thug came from the left—a wild haymaker aimed at Kai's jaw. Kai caught the fist mid-swing, redirected the momentum, and drove his palm into the man's shoulder. The joint dislocated with a wet pop. The thug collapsed, howling.
The second lunged from behind with the spray paint can raised like a weapon. Kai heard the footsteps, pivoted, and drove his elbow into the man's solar plexus. All the air exploded from his lungs in a single violent gasp. He crumpled, gagging, unable to breathe.
The third and fourth came together, trying to overwhelm him with numbers.
Kai ducked under a punch, swept the legs out from under one, and as the man fell, Kai caught his collar and used his weight to throw him into his partner. They collided hard. Kai followed through, a precise strike to the back of the first man's knee, buckling his leg. Then a nerve cluster strike to the side of his neck. The man's eyes rolled back and he dropped unconscious.
The fourth thug scrambled to his feet, swinging wildly. Kai blocked with his forearm, stepped inside the man's guard, and delivered a short, sharp punch to his liver. The thug's face went gray. He folded in half and vomited onto the grass.
Five seconds. Five men on the ground.
Kai stood in the center of them, breathing steady, hands loose at his sides. Not a scratch on him, not even winded.
Marco lay on his back, cradling his dislocated elbow, staring up at Kai with wide, terrified eyes. His mouth worked but no sound came out.
Kai stepped over the groaning bodies and looked down at him.
"Who sent you?" Kai asked again. His voice was calm. The kind of calm that made people think of deep water.
Marco shook his head, gasping. "I—I don't—"
Kai crouched beside him. "You have three seconds."
"Okay! Okay!" Marco's voice cracked. "Viktor Kane! Viktor Kane sent us! He's—he's head of security for the Sterlings!"
Kai's eyes narrowed. Viktor Kane. The name lodged in his chest like a splinter.
He stood, turned toward the grave. Marco tried to crawl away.
"Where do you think you're going?" Kai asked without looking back.
Marco froze.
Kai pointed at the headstone, at the spray-painted word that defaced his mother's name. "You're going to clean that."
Marco blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
"I—I don't have anything to—"
Kai's cold gaze cut to him.
Marco swallowed hard and nodded frantically. With his good arm, he struggled out of his jacket, then pulled his shirt over his head. He crawled to the grave, pressed the fabric against the stone, and started scrubbing.
The paint didn't come off. It had dried too deep into the granite. But Marco scrubbed anyway, hands shaking, tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
Kai stood over him, silent.
Behind them, the sound of engines rumbled through the cemetery.
Five black SUVs rolled through the gates in perfect formation. They stopped in a line thirty feet away. The engines cut off in unison.
The doors opened and wenty men stepped out. Black tactical gear, no insignias, moving with the sharp efficiency of trained soldiers. They didn't speak. Didn't need to. They fanned out in a loose perimeter around Kai, hands near their weapons, their eyes scanning.
Marco looked up, his face going even paler. "Who—who the hell—"
A tall man in a dark suit approached—late forties, gray at the temples, a scar running from his left eye to his jaw. He stopped in front of Kai and nodded once.
"Sir."
Kai gestured to the grave. "I want it rebuilt in white marble with gold engraving. The inscription should read: Eleanor Cross. Beloved Mother. She Was Innocent." He paused. "I want the best craftsmen in the city. I want it done in forty-eight hours."
The man didn't blink. "Understood."
Kai pulled a card from his pocket, handed it over. "Whatever it costs."
The man turned, barked orders. Four operatives moved to the SUVs and returned carrying black duffel bags. They set them on the ground and unzipped them.
Stacks of cash, neatly banded. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Marco stared, mouth hanging open.
Kai ignored him. He walked to the grave, knelt on the cold ground, and placed his hand on the stone. For a long moment, he was silent.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered. His voice was raw. "I'm sorry I left you here like this. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you back then."
His fingers traced the edge of the headstone.
"But I'm going to fix it. All of it. I promise you." His voice hardened. "Everyone who did this to you—everyone who destroyed our family, I'm going to make them pay. Every single one of them."
He stayed there, kneeling, head bowed, for another minute.
Then he stood.
Behind him, Marco had stopped scrubbing. He was staring at Kai with something between terror and awe.
Kai turned, looked down at him.
"You said Viktor Kane sent you."
Marco nodded frantically. "Y-yes. He runs security for Helen Sterling. He's—he's the one who gives all the orders."
"Where is he?"
"I—I don't know! I swear! He just told us to come here and finish the job, make sure the grave was—" Marco's voice broke. "Please, man, I was just following orders—"
Kai's jaw tightened. He reached down, grabbed Marco by the front of his shirt, and hauled him to his feet. Marco yelped.
Kai leaned in close. His voice was low and dangerous.
"You're going to deliver a message for me."
Marco nodded frantically. "Anything. Anything you want."
"You tell Viktor Kane," Kai said slowly, "that The Surgeon is coming for him."
Marco's eyes widened. Recognition flickered across his face. "The Surgeon? You're—you're The Surgeon?"
Kai released him. Marco stumbled backward, nearly tripping over one of his unconscious friends.
"Go," Kai said.
Marco didn't need to be told twice. He turned and ran, clutching his dislocated elbow, stumbling over graves in his desperation to get away. His crew groaned and struggled to their feet, limping after him. Within seconds, they'd piled into their cars and were speeding toward the cemetery gates.
Kai watched them disappear.
The man in the suit approached again. "Orders, sir?"
Kai's gaze returned to the grave. "Get it done. Spare no expense. I want my mother honored the way she deserved to be."
"Yes, sir."
The man—Reece, Kai's lieutenant and one of the few people he trusted, hesitated. "One more thing."
Kai turned slightly.
"We picked up some messages about two hours ago, someone’s asking about you. They’re using the old communication channels and the same secret codes we used back in the Blackwell days.”
Kai's jaw tightened. "Who?"
"Couldn't confirm identity. The signal was scrubbed, routed through three countries." Reece paused, his expression careful.
"But the accent... Russian."
Kai said nothing. His hand clenched slowly at his side.
There was only one person from those days who'd use those channels. One person who knew the old codes. He'd hoped she was dead. Or at least smart enough to stay away.
Reece watched him. "You want me to trace it?"
"No." Kai's voice was flat. "If it's who I think it is, she'll find me when she's ready."
"And if she's not alone?"
Kai's eyes hardened. "Then we deal with it."
Reece nodded and stepped back to coordinate with the team.
Ten years he'd waited. Ten years of training, fighting, becoming someone who could stand against the people who'd destroyed his family.
Now he was back, and he wasn't leaving until every one of them had paid in full.
He looked back at the grave one last time.
"I won't let you down again, Mom," he said quietly. "I promise."
The wind picked up, scattering leaves across the cemetery. Kai turned and walked toward one of the SUVs.
Latest Chapter
The Interrogations
The aircraft carrier had interrogation rooms scattered across multiple decks. The team separated. Isolated. Each facing their own inquisitor.---Julie - Interrogation Room 3, Medical DeckShe sat in a wheelchair, still too weak to stand for long. IV drip attached to her arm. But her eyes were clear. Defiant.CIA Agent Morrison sat across from her. Mid-forties. Kind face. The type who probably had daughters Julie's age."Is your brother planning to join Theodore Blackwell?"Julie's laugh was bitter. "My brother plans to destroy the Consortium. Including Theodore.""He let Theodore escape.""He let a sinking man reach safety. That's different."Morrison leaned forward. Sympathetic but duty-bound. "Julie, I know you've been through hell. We have reports of what they did to you. A year of torture. Brainwashing. We can help you. But you need to cooperate.""I am cooperating. I'm telling you the truth.""Your truth. Or Kai's truth?"Julie met his eyes. "Same thing."Morrison sighed. Made a
The Submarine
Sixty seconds before the yacht went under completely.CIA agents fast-roping onto the tilting deck. Water rushing over rails. Fire spreading. Chaos in every direction."Everyone into lifeboats!" Kai shouted. "Now!"The team scrambled. Derek and Nadia carrying Julie between them. Reeves supporting Torres. Lila already at the first lifeboat, releasing the mechanism.Theodore stood at the yacht's stern. Calm. Always impossibly calm."My submarine is here," he said to Kai. "Come with me. Last chance.""I'm not joining you.""Then you're a fool." Theodore's expression didn't change. "You could've changed the world.""Maybe." Kai met his eyes. "But I'd lose myself doing it."Theodore nodded. Once. Understanding. Then turned toward the stern where an underwater exit hatch was concealed beneath the deck.CIA agents closing in. Twenty seconds until they reached the team. Maybe less.Kai made a split-second decision.Raised his weapon. Aimed at the yacht's fuel tank.Fired an incendiary round.
The Yacht Battle
Three speedboats circled like sharks. Forty-plus armed men. Consortium loyalists who'd decided Theodore's independence was treason.A voice crackled through a megaphone. Harsh. Authoritative."Theodore Blackwell. You betrayed your brother. Betrayed the Consortium. Surrender and we'll make it quick."Theodore stood at the rail, impossibly calm. Adjusted his cufflinks like this was a minor annoyance."I prefer to decline."The RPG launched with a whoosh. Slammed into the yacht's upper deck. The explosion threw Kai sideways. Fire and debris raining down.Theodore's crew scrambled for positions. Professional. Trained. But outnumbered."Return fire!" Theodore's security chief shouted.Gunfire erupted from the deck rails. But the speedboats were fast, agile, circling.Kai moved into position. "Reeves, FBI agents—port side. Nadia, Derek—starboard. I'll take the bow.""What about me?" Torres limped forward, wounded but mobile."Sniper position. Bridge. Pick your targets."Torres nodded, disap
Nadia's Warning
Day three on Theodore's yacht. Twelve hours until the deadline.Kai sat alone in his guest room, staring at the tablet Theodore had given him. Five million projected casualties. Three wars. Two economic collapses. All planned. All preventable.If he took the offer.The team had fractured. Lila wouldn't see him—staying in Julie's room instead, door locked, refusing to respond when he knocked. Julie was recovering physically but wouldn't speak to him. The betrayal in her eyes when she'd walked out still burned.Through the thin walls, Kai heard voices. Reeves and the FBI agents."If Kai accepts, we arrest him ourselves.""He's not thinking clearly. Theodore's manipulating him.""Doesn't matter. We don't let him become the enemy."Derek's voice, conflicted: "My mother wanted him to destroy the Consortium, not join it."Torres, bitter: "I didn't save his life a dozen times so he could become what we're fighting."Kai closed his eyes. Alone. Isolated. The weight of five million lives press
Chapter 108: The Offer
The second morning on Theodore's yacht arrived with calm seas and breakfast that would've cost more than most people's monthly rent. Fresh fruit flown in from somewhere. Coffee that tasted like liquid gold. Croissants that melted on the tongue.Julie sat upright at the table for the first time since they'd boarded. The color had returned to her face. The fever broken. Theodore's doctor had worked some kind of miracle—the infection controlled, wounds healing faster than Torres thought possible."Private physicians," Theodore had explained casually. "Worth every penny of the extravagant salary I pay them."After breakfast, Theodore approached Kai with that same calm smile he'd worn since rescuing them from the lifeboats."A word in private?" Not really a question. "My office. The view is exceptional."Lila's eyes followed them. Suspicious. Always suspicious now.---The office was luxury incarnate. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking endless ocean. Furniture that probably cost more tha
The invitation
The yacht loomed over the lifeboats like a floating palace, its white hull gleaming under floodlights that cut through the night. Sleek lines. Multiple decks. The kind of vessel that screamed old money and untouchable power.The elderly man at the rail was sixty-two, but he carried it like fifty—tall, straight-backed, silver hair perfectly groomed despite the ocean wind. Expensive suit, tailored to perfection. A refined face, almost grandfatherly, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. Nothing like Marcus's cold menace. This man looked like he belonged in boardrooms or charity galas, not orchestrating global conspiracies.He smiled down at them, hands resting casually on the polished rail."Kai Cross," he said, voice carrying effortlessly across the water. Cultured. Educated. The accent of Ivy League and inherited wealth. "We finally meet. Marcus spoke of you often. Said you were his greatest creation and his worst mistake."Kai stood in the lifeboat, weapon raised, steady despite the r
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