The harsh fluorescent light of the Oakhaven Springs kitchen hummed like an angry hornet, cutting through the heavy pre-dawn silence.

Desperation overtook Miller’s professional facade. He lunged forward to smash the laptop with the butt of his gun, but Grace—fueled by a lifetime of protective maternal fury—slammed a heavy iron wrench directly across his wrist. Miller screamed in agony, dropping the weapon as it clattered against the damp concrete. Before he could recover, Katherine swept her leg out, catching him behind the knees and sending him crashing hard to the ground. She pinned him down with her knee against his chest, pressing the heavy metal flashlight against his collarbone. “Where are the remaining audit files?” Katherine demanded, her voice cutting through the damp air like a razor. Miller laughed, coughing up a small fleck of blood. “You think... you think destroying me stops it? The syndicate is an idea, Katherine. An umbrella. You can't burn down an empire with a single laptop.” Suddenly, the heavy iron doors at the entrance of the railyard were blown off their hinges in a blinding flash of tactical smoke and white-hot light.