At the La Fortaleza where the Chaos Unleashed – 11:59 P.M.The scent of gunpowder thickened the air as the alarms blared, drowning out the sound of screaming guests and the pounding of rushed footsteps. La Fortaleza had turned into a warzone.Ethan’s grip on the pistol tightened as he crouched behind the overturned desk. Across the room, Leo was reloading his weapon, his jaw clenched. Sofia stood between them, her back against the wall, the still-smoking gun in her hand.“Son of a bitch,” Leo hissed, peering over the edge of their cover. “We just killed Vasquez. Every damn guard in this place is going to hunt us down.”Ethan barely spared Vasquez’s lifeless body a glance. No regrets. The bastard had sealed his own fate.“Stay sharp,” Ethan ordered, his voice steady. “We get out of here. Now.”Sofia reached into her jacket and pulled out another magazine, her expression unreadable. “The east wing has a back exit,” she said. “But it’ll be guarded.”Ethan exchanged a glance with Leo. No

Brooklyn, New York – 3:42 A.M.The city never slept, but tonight, it felt different. The usual hum of late-night traffic and distant sirens still filled the air, yet something darker lurked beneath the surface.Ethan stepped out of the black SUV, his boots crunching against the pavement as he scanned the dimly lit alleyway. No movement. No sounds beyond the city’s usual noise.Leo and Sofia flanked him, their expressions unreadable, but the tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.Marco DeLuca stood a few feet away, lighting a cigarette. The orange ember glowed briefly before he exhaled a slow cloud of smoke. His gaze locked on Ethan.“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”Ethan met his stare without flinching. “You wouldn’t be here if you thought quitting was an option.”Marco let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Maybe. But this time, you’re not just fighting one enemy. You’re taking on an entire empire.”The Russian Bratva.Ethan already knew what that meant. The

Abandoned Monastery – 1:45 AMThe fire crackled in the old chapel’s corner, casting flickering shadows on the crumbling stone walls. Outside, the night was thick with anticipation—as if the darkness itself held its breath. Inside, war was being planned.Ethan sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes scanning the old blueprint Sofia had retrieved from a hidden alcove. It was hand-drawn, faded, and water-damaged, but it was all they had.Raul Delgado’s compound was a fortress.“Perimeter’s double-fenced,” Leo said, pointing at the sketch. “Infrared cameras every fifteen feet, automated sentry drones by the gate, and snipers posted on the roof corners.”Ethan didn’t look up. “What’s on the inside?”Sofia leaned over the map. “Weapons cache in the north wing. Delgado keeps his intel server in the eastern bunker—he’s paranoid. Keeps hard drives locked in a vault under biometric security.”“Good,” Ethan muttered. “That means everything we need to burn his empire is in one place.”Leo gave a

In the Private Jet – 38,000 Feet Above the Gulf – 6:12 AMRaul Delgado’s fingers clenched the armrest as he stared blankly through the jet’s oval window. Below, the ocean stretched like an endless grave. His kingdom—his empire—was burning, and all he could do was watch it from the clouds.The call. That single word: Tick. Cold. Mechanical. But deliberate.He glanced across the cabin at his head of security, Miguel, who was pretending to read a dossier but whose eyes kept flicking up at his boss.Delgado’s phone buzzed again.Unknown number.He answered without hesitation. “Who is this?”A brief pause.Then the same distorted voice replied, “One brick at a time, Raul.”Static.Then silence.Delgado hurled the phone across the cabin. It cracked against the mahogany bar and dropped with a pathetic clatter.“I want him dead,” he growled to Miguel. “I want Ethan Cross found and torn apart. Use every contact. Every merc. Every fucking rat in every corner.”Miguel nodded, but his silence bet

At Cartagena, Colombia – Private Marina – 9:42 AMEthan stood at the edge of the pier, sunglasses masking his eyes, a collared shirt covering the bruises on his ribs. Behind him, a sleek yacht rocked gently in the sunlight, luxury at its most deceptive.Inside was Nico Delgado—Raul’s only son, heir to the empire, and, by all accounts, a spoiled, arrogant trust-fund sociopath. But Ethan had studied him.Nico wasn’t a killer.Not yet.But he was the key to ending Raul’s reign without drowning in civilian blood. Ethan had used many tools in his life—guns, blades, tactics. Today, he used charm.He stepped aboard the yacht.Yacht Interior – 9:45 AMThe moment Ethan entered the salon, Nico looked up from his glass of bourbon. Mid-20s. Sharp cheekbones. Designer clothes. A shark in silk.“You’re brave,” Nico said. “Coming here alone. My father’s hunting you like a rabid dog.”Ethan smirked. “I’m not afraid of dogs. Especially the ones hiding behind security gates.”Nico’s brow rose. “You’re