The ink on the adoption papers was barely dry in the secret biometric vault fifty floors above the city, but the target was already painted. Vincent Crowe—the Wolf—did not know that his deepest vulnerability had just been digitized, sold, and weaponized before the boy, Leo, even woke up in the master suite.

They didn't even hear Vincent move.

A shadow detached itself from the massive stone fireplace. A muffled grunt, the sickening snap of a cervical spine, and the first mercenary hit the floor like a sack of wet cement.

The second mercenary spun around, raising his rifle, but Vincent was already behind him, driving a combat knife deep into his tactical vest.

As the third mercenary fired wildly into the dark, Vincent used his fallen comrade as a human shield, lunged forward, and shattered the man's throat with a single devastating strike.

Within ninety seconds, the first wave was eliminated.

Vance’s voice echoed through the lodge's intercom system, mocking and distorted. "It's over, Vincent! You can't fight an entire army alone! Give us the boy, and maybe—just maybe—we'll let you die quickly!"

Vincent walked slowly to the master control panel, keyed the microphone, and let out a cold, chilling laugh that sent shivers down the spine of every mercenary listening on the frequency.

"Vance," Vincent spoke into the mic, his voice dripping with absolute venom. "Twenty years ago, I cleared the docks of every rat in this city with my bare hands. You brought an army to my home? That wasn't a tactical move."

Vincent pulled a pin from a heavy fragmentation grenade and tossed it toward the main foyer entrance.