The heavy oak door slammed shut behind Dr. Harrison Cole, his muffled curses echoing down the marble-tiled corridor of the Falcone estate. Carmine didn't even blink. He kept his Smith & Wesson steady until the estate's heavy security gates groaned, signaling the disgraced surgeon’s departure.

Gabriel didn't raise his voice. He walked over to the mahogany bar, poured himself two fingers of neat bourbon, and took a slow sip before turning back to face the prisoner.

"You had your chance, Viktor. Three months ago. But you relied on a corrupt surgeon and a cheap chemical thread," Gabriel said, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "You didn't understand that a wound is only as dangerous as the person stitching it up."

Viktor laughed, a harsh, rattling sound. "You think killing me stops the war? My buyers in Moscow have already initiated Protocol Zero. If I don't check in within six hours, every shipping route, every drug tunnel, and every port from here to Hamburg goes up in smoke."

I stepped forward, pulling a small, encrypted tablet from my pocket and tapping the screen.

"Protocol Zero was routed through an encrypted server in Zurich," I said smoothly, holding the screen down so Viktor could see it. "The same server you used to launder your illegal arms profits through Vance shell companies. I decrypted it forty minutes ago."

Viktor’s face drained of color. The arrogant sneer vanished instantly. "That... that's impossible. That server is firewall-protected by military-grade encryption."

"My mother taught me about weak threads, Viktor," I replied, staring down at him. "Every firewall has a fraying edge if you know where to pull."

Gabriel walked over, standing beside me. He rested his hand casually on my shoulder, a silent gesture of absolute partnership and dominance.

"Carmine," Gabriel commanded without breaking eye contact with Viktor. "Take him down to the basement vault. Let him think about his protocol while we dismantle the rest of his network."