The heavy oak door of the third-floor study clicked shut behind Raphael, sealing off the world of shipping manifests, encrypted ledgers, and bloody territorial disputes. Down the servant staircase, Josephine Hartley hovered by the wooden banister like a ghost afraid of leaving a footprint.

The sprawling coastal estate of Victor Vance sat on a jagged cliff overlooking the crashing waves of the Atlantic, guarded by electric fences, patrol dogs, and dozens of armed mercenaries. Vance believed his fortress was impenetrable. He sat in his private study, swirling a glass of twenty-year-old scotch, laughing quietly as he watched security feeds on his monitors.

“The Orsini dog is running around a children’s hospital mourning a dead brat,” Vance sneered to his lieutenant. “By morning, his entire portfolio will—”

The heavy oak doors of the study didn't just open—they splintered inward with a deafening crash, ripped off their reinforced hinges by a synchronized explosive charge.

Smoke billowed into the room. Through the haze, a towering figure stepped across the threshold, dressed in a tailored black overcoat, holding a suppressed tactical rifle. Behind him, Gideon Marsh and a half-dozen heavily armed Orsini operatives poured into the mansion, neutralizing Vance’s guards before they could even draw their sidearms.

Vance scrambled backward, dropping his crystal glass as amber liquid shattered across the Persian rug. “Raphael... how did you—this is madness! You can’t touch me, I have political protection!”

Raphael walked slowly across the room, his boots clicking rhythmically against the floorboards. His face was carved from absolute ice.

“You sent men to assassinate an eight-year-old boy on an operating table,” Raphael said softly, raising the barrel of his rifle until it pressed firmly against Vance’s forehead. “You broke the fundamental law of the underworld, Viktor. You brought war to the innocent.”

“Wait!” Vance screamed, his hands shaking as he raised them in surrender. “The girl! The maid—she has the master ledger! If you kill me, you’ll never find the offshore accounts holding the Orsini family fortune!”

Raphael paused for a fraction of a second, a cold, humorless smile touching the corner of his lips.