Kael stood in the penthouse house, hands pressed against the edge of the table, staring down at the old, faded documents spread before him. The air was thick with dust, the scent of aging paper mixing with the faint metallic tang of blood still drying on his knuckles.The unknown faction’s message echoed in his mind.It was never about you, Kael. It was about what you’re hiding.The words gnawed at him like a splinter buried deep in his skin.He had always known who he was, what he stood for. He wasn’t a pawn in someone else’s game. He was the one pulling the strings.Or so he had believed.Now?Now, he wasn’t sure of anything.Across the room, Marcus leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His face was set in a frown, but there was something else in his eyes—something that looked a hell of a lot like concern.“I don’t like this,” Marcus muttered.Kael barely looked up. “You don’t like anything.”Marcus let out a dry chuckle. “That’s fair. But this? This is different. Yo

The vault was still open, but Kael wasn’t looking at the files anymore.He was staring at one name.Elias.The name felt foreign now. Like something from a life that wasn’t his anymore.But that wasn’t the problem.The problem was that Elias was dead.Kael had buried him.Had watched the dirt cover the coffin. Had stood there, staring at the grave, knowing there was no coming back.But now…Now, his name was here.Inside a vault Kael didn’t remember building.The weight in his chest wasn’t shock.It was realization.Because if Elias’s name was buried in these files, tied to a past Kael didn’t even recognize—Then this wasn’t just about Kael anymore.It never had been.Selene Demands AnswersSelene didn’t take her eyes off him.She had seen Kael fight. Had seen him kill without hesitation, had seen him tear apart his enemies without blinking.But now?Now, he wasn’t moving.He was stuck in place.Like the name on that page had ripped something out of him.Selene’s patience snapped.She

Kael sat in the darkened safe house, staring at the message on his phone.A location. No name. No instructions. Just coordinates.Mr. Black was finally ready to talk.Marcus sat across from him, arms crossed, gaze sharp. “This could be a trap.”Kael exhaled, slipping his gun into his holster. “It’s always a trap.”Selene leaned against the doorway, arms folded. She had barely spoken since last night. Since Kael had finally said it.Since he had finally admitted the truth neither of them were ready for.Elias was alive.And now, they were walking straight into the heart of the war he had been orchestrating from the shadows.Selene’s voice was quiet, but firm. “You’re still not telling me everything.”Kael met her gaze, unreadable. “You already know everything you need to.”Selene’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. Not yet.Marcus sighed, running a hand over his face. “All right. Let’s go meet the devil.”The Truth About Deep SpaceThe meeting point was an abandoned skyscraper, half

A Past That Refuses to DieThe air was thick, suffocating with unspoken history. It pressed down on Kael’s skin, wrapping around his throat like unseen hands trying to strangle the breath from his lungs. It smelled of damp concrete and gunpowder, of things buried but never dead.And standing right in the center of it all—ten feet away—was a man Kael had buried years ago.Elias.Alive.Unshaken.And smirking, as if none of it mattered.Kael’s fingers twitched at his side, itching for his gun, but he resisted the urge. Not yet. First, he needed answers.Marcus and Selene stood like statues on either side of him. Neither spoke. Neither moved. This wasn’t their fight—not yet.This was between blood.Between ghosts.Kael’s voice was steady when he finally spoke, but the weight behind it was crushing. “Why?”The word wasn’t just a question—it was a wound, raw and gaping.Elias exhaled, as if this was all just another conversation. Another day. His smirk never wavered.“You’ll have to be mor

Pain settled at the base of Pamela’s skull, dull at first, but growing sharper with every breath. It wasn’t the kind of pain that faded—it lingered, pulsed, curled its way down her spine like a warning.She inhaled slowly, the air thick and metallic, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. Blood? Rust? It didn’t matter. The cold steel chair beneath her was hard, unyielding. Her wrists were bound, tied firmly behind her back, but not tight enough to cut off circulation—not tight enough to torture.This wasn’t about pain.Not yet.This was about control.Pamela blinked against the blinding fluorescent light overhead. The room around her was a void—concrete walls, featureless except for the jagged cracks running through them like veins. No windows. No furniture. Just her, the light, and the suffocating weight of silence.Her captors weren’t amateurs.A street gang would have used rope. Someone desperate would have left marks, bruises, an obvious show of force.But these restraint