Holden Cross stood paralyzed at the foot of the stone steps, his chest heaving as the icy wind tore at his tailored overcoat. For ten years, his word had been absolute law across the underworld. He had buried rivals, bought politicians, and built an empire on calculated ruthlessness. Yet, in this single, frozen second, none of it mattered.

Heavy caliber gunfire tore through the ancient stone walls, shattering grand stained-glass windows and chewing up the manicured hedges. Syndicate execution squads—men dressed head-to-toe in black tactical gear bearing the insignia of the Iron Cross syndicate—poured through the shattered front gates like a swarm of locusts.

Holden burst out of the secret tunnel entrance behind the estate’s massive stone library, his P226 drawn and spitting fire. Two syndicate enforcers went down instantly, their bodies crashing against the polished marble floor of the grand foyer.

"Marcus! Secure the perimeter exits!" Holden roared over the sound of gunfire, ducking behind a heavy mahogany pillar as a hail of bullets chipped wood and stone away around him.

"Boss, there's too many of them!" Marcus yelled back, firing a rapid burst from his carbine before ducking into cover behind a overturned couch. "They brought armored transport! The front gates are completely compromised!"

Right beside Holden, moving with terrifying, silent grace, was Phantom. The massive Cane Corso didn't flinch at the deafening roar of assault rifles. Guided by some primal instinct and years of training under Elena's secret handlers, the dog leaped over a marble banister straight into a group of three armed enforcers, taking the lead man down by the throat with a wet, brutal crunch.

Elena emerged from the tunnel next, holding a suppressed submachine gun with the practiced ease of a veteran soldier. She fired a precise three-round burst through the doorway, dropping an infiltrator who was trying to flank Holden’s position.

"You're fighting your own syndicate, Holden!" Elena shouted over the din of battle, her silver-streaked hair whipping around her face as she reloaded with lightning speed. "They never forgave you for trying to run things your own way. The moment your power showed a crack, they decided to replace you!"

Holden fired two shots through the smoke, neutralizing a sniper in the second-floor gallery. Rage—hot, bitter, and absolute—surged through his veins. For ten years, he had served the syndicate faithfully, believing he was the king of the underworld. Now he saw the brutal reality: he was never the king. He was just their attack dog, kept on a leash until they decided to put him down.

"Where's Vesper?" Holden yelled, panic gripping his heart as he realized the little girl wasn't right behind them.

"She’s already in the safe room with Vance," Elena replied, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the courtyard. "Which means we have about two minutes before the syndicate command team breaches the vault door."

Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the front foyer blew inward in a cloud of splintered wood and white smoke.

Through the haze stepped a massive figure clad in heavy body armor, holding a customized M249 SAW light machine gun. It was Viktor Vance—Silas’s older brother and the chief enforcer for the syndicate board. A man whose brutality was legendary even among monsters.

"Well, well, well," Viktor laughed, his voice booming through the smoke as he swept his heavy machine gun across the room. "Look at the great Holden Cross, cornered in his own house like a stray dog. And look who decided to crawl back from the dead."

Viktor’s eyes locked onto Elena, a sickening grin spreading across his scarred face. "I told the board we should have dumped your body deeper, Elena. But don't worry—we'll make sure this time your entire family stays buried together."