Michael’s words hung in the sterile air of the hallway, heavy as wet lead. A sedative. In an estate guarded like a nuclear silo, someone had slipped a chemical compound into the bloodstream of a quiet, unassuming housemaid, and my security network had treated it like a ghost walking through walls.

I stepped back out into the smoky hallway, the pistol in my hand feeling heavy and hot. As I reached the top of the grand staircase, the smoke parted, and a single figure stood waiting for me in the center of the ruined foyer.

Victor Kane.

He wasn't wearing tactical gear. He wore a tailored charcoal suit, immaculate and unbothered, leaning casually on a silver-headed cane as if he were attending a high-society gala rather than a massacre.

“Impressive, Adrian,” Kane said, his voice echoing smoothly through the ravaged hall. “You built a fortress out of stone and steel, but you forgot the oldest rule of the Chicago waterfront: men are always betrayed by the weak.”

“You killed your own men just to break into my home, Victor,” I said, walking slowly down the stairs, my boots crunching on glass. “You’re desperate.”

“Desperate?” Kane chuckled, adjusting his cuffs. “I’m efficient. That little girl is carrying a drive that could sink half the Senate, and her mother was foolish enough to think she could outrun me. Hand over the rabbit, Adrian, and I’ll let you walk away from the ashes of this estate.”

“I don't negotiate with men who target children,” I said, stopping ten feet away from him.

Kane’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, venomous glare. He raised his hand, and three laser sights instantly painted my chest from the shadows above.

“A pity,” Kane murmured, raising his cane. “I always respected you, Moretti. But empires fall when—”

Bang.

A single, sharp crack echoed from the shadows behind Kane.

Kane’s eyes widened in sudden, absolute shock. He looked down at his chest, where a dark, spreading crimson stain was rapidly blooming across his immaculate charcoal lapel. His knees buckled, and he crashed hard onto the marble floor, his silver-headed cane clattering away across the tiles.