Chapter 7 - DANCING WITH DEVILS“You brought thirty men to kill a phantom. You should have brought an army.”I hit the main breaker switch in the basement.

CLICK.

The entire estate plunged into pitch-black darkness. The rain thundered against the roof as Julian’s tactical team breached the front doors, their night-vision goggles glowing like eerie green eyes in the shadows.

“Spread out!” a squad commander ordered. “Find the vault codes and kill anyone moving!”

They didn't know that I knew every square inch of this mansion better than the blood running through my veins.

I dropped down silently behind the rear squad. A swift sweep of my knife slashed the neck of the first tactical shooter before he could even register my presence. Before his body hit the floor, I grabbed his tactical knife, spinning around to drive it through the second guard's chest.

Quiet. Lethal. Absolute.

One by one, the hunters became the hunted. I stalked them through the dark corridors, turning my own home into a slaughterhouse. Screams echoed through the halls as squad after squad vanished into the darkness.

“Command! We’re taking heavy casualties in the west wing!” a soldier panicked into his radio. “He’s like a ghost! He’s—”

A bullet shattered his radio, followed by another straight through his helmet.

Within fifteen minutes, twenty-eight of Julian’s elite mercenaries lay lifeless on the blood-soaked carpet.

I stepped out onto the rain-slicked front lawn, holding my rifle at my side. The heavy storm washed the blood from my face as I walked toward the sleek black limousine parked at the center of the driveway.

The rear window rolled down slowly.

Sitting inside, sipping a glass of red wine, was Julian Vance.

“Impressive as always, Luca,” Julian said smoothly, stepping out into the pouring rain with a silver-handled cane. “I always knew you were my greatest creation. A pity you had to find out the truth.”

“You killed my mother,” I said, my voice colder than the ice Nora had scrubbed my shirt in. “You made me serve you for twenty years.”

“Your mother was a fool who traded power for poverty!” Julian spat, his suave demeanor cracking into pure malice. “She had access to the Scarlatti fortune, and she threw it away to live like a rat! I set that fire to claim the money, but your stupid butler got in the way!”

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“Her name was Sarah,” I roared, raising my rifle straight at his chest. “And her butler’s daughter is currently safe under my protection!”

Julian smirked, slowly reaching into his coat pocket. “Are you sure about that, nephew?”