Back at the Bentley's estate, as the roar of engines grew louder, as Logan stood in the dimly lit control room, his eyes darting between the surveillance monitors and his men who awaited orders. "Reinforce the eastern wing! And block the entrance to the dungeons," Logan barked, his tone urgent. “Malcolm knows this estate better than most of us. He’ll try to flank us from the back.” One of his lieutenants hesitated, the strain of the moment visible on his face. “Sir, we don’t have enough men to…” “I don’t care how you do it,” Logan interrupted, his glare stern, his voice cold he continued; “Just make sure that door is impenetrable!” The estate felt like it was about to cave in. Outside, the headlights of Malcolm D'Cruz’s convoy pierced the darkness, advancing like a predator stalking its prey. Logan’s fingers hovered over his communicator. “Get ready,” he murmured, his heart pounding. “This isn’t just about revenge, this is personal.” Minutes Later, Chaos erupted like a