Marcus adjusted his glasses, his expression grave as he looked down at the tablet in his hands. The Chicago skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ethan’s penthouse seemed muted beneath a heavy layer of gray fog, mirroring the tension in the room.

Ethan Cain killed the engine, stepped out into the freezing night air, and locked the door behind him.

He wore no armor. He carried no visible weapons. But as he walked toward the center of the illuminated loading platform, the dozen armed men stepping out from behind the shipping containers looked at him with undisguised terror.

"Hold your fire!" a voice echoed through the cavernous space.

Victor Vance stepped forward from the shadows. He was a sleek, silver-haired predator wearing a tailored white coat, a smug, triumphant smile plastered across his face.

Between two of Vance’s heavily armed thugs stood Chloe Cain—Ethan’s twenty-four-year-old sister—her hands bound behind her back, a strip of duct tape over her mouth, and tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

"Well, well, well," Vance laughed, spreading his arms wide as he stopped ten feet away. "The great Ethan Cain. Walking right into the lion's den, all by your lonesome. I must admit, I didn't think a cold-blooded syndicate boss had it in him to play the devoted brother."

Ethan stopped, his dark eyes locked entirely on his sister before shifting slowly to Vance.

"Let her go, Vance," Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "She has nothing to do with this."

"Oh, she has everything to do with this," Vance sneered, snapping his fingers. One of his thugs stepped forward, pressing the barrel of a pistol against Chloe’s temple. Chloe whimpered behind the tape, her eyes begging her brother to run.

"You want my empire, Victor?" Ethan asked, taking a slow step forward. "You want the docks, the shipping routes, the offshore accounts? It’s yours. Sign the transfer papers right now, and I walk away from Chicago forever."

Vance chuckled, shaking his head. "It’s tempting, Ethan. Truly, it is. But a clever businessman always checks the fine print. You see, I didn't just capture your sister tonight. My men also decrypted Daniel Bennett’s personal files from locker 409."

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

"And do you know what we found hidden in the very back of those ledgers?" Vance’s smile widened into a malicious grin. "A personal love letter. Written by you. To Valerie Bennett. Dated just two weeks before you took over the syndicate."

Ethan’s heart skipped a beat.

"Vance..." Ethan warned, a dangerous tremor entering his voice.

"Oh, relax, she’s not dead yet," Vance mocked. "But my second strike team is currently paying a little visit to her apartment on the south side. By the time we finish our little chat here, Valerie will be joining us... or joining her late husband in the ground."

The world seemed to stop spinning.

In a fraction of a second, every drop of restraint in Ethan Cain evaporated. The cold, calculating syndicate boss vanished, replaced by an elemental force of pure, unadulterated destruction.

"You touch her," Ethan whispered, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates, "and I won't just kill you, Victor. I will pull your entire family tree down to the roots and salt the earth where you stood."

Vance’s smug smile faltered for a fraction of a second, unnerved by the sheer terrifying aura radiating from Ethan. He raised his pistol, nodding to the guard holding Chloe. "Kill the girl—"

Before Vance could finish the command, the heavy overhead floodlights of the terminal suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Silenced sniper fire from the perimeter cranes cut down three of Vance’s guards instantly. Marcus and the elite Cain enforcement team swarmed through the gates like a tidal wave of shadows.

Chaos erupted in the loading bay. Gunfire echoed off the metal containers as bullets ripped through the night air.

Ethan didn't wait. In one explosive movement, he lunged across the space between them, driving his fist directly into the chest of the guard holding Chloe, ripping the pistol from the man's grip, and spinning around to shield his sister with his own body.

"Get down!" Ethan roared, cutting the zip-ties on Chloe’s wrists and shoving her behind a steel barricade.

Victor Vance scrambled backward, drawing his own weapon, his face twisted in panic as his men were systematically dismantled by Ethan’s elite enforcers.

"Kill him! Kill him!" Vance screamed to his remaining guards.

Two men rushed Ethan from the flank. Ethan ducked beneath a wild swing, swept the first man’s legs out from under him, and drove his elbow down with bone-cracking force. As the second man lunged, Ethan caught him by the throat, slamming him against the side of a shipping container until he went limp.

When Ethan turned back around, Victor Vance was sprinting toward the exit gates, desperately trying to reach his armored getaway car.

Ethan didn't chase him on foot. He snatched a heavy iron crowbar from the ground, weighed it in his hand for a fraction of a second, and hurled it with terrifying, superhuman accuracy across the sixty-foot span of the loading bay.

Clang!