Chapter 32
The transition from the opulent country club to the desolate, freezing industrial district was a journey from a sophisticated party into a lethal war zone. Victor’s safe house was a sprawling, rusted labyrinth of corrugated steel and decaying warehouses, situated right on the edge of the river.
When Ethan’s armored convoy arrived, they cut their headlights miles before reaching the perimeter. They were ghosts moving through the night, driven by the singular, apocalyptic rage of a king defending his bloodline.
Ethan stepped out of his black SUV, pulling a heavy tactical vest over his crisp white shirt. He drew a suppressed automatic rifle, moving with the fluid, terrifying grace of a predator.
"Thermal imaging confirms ten hostiles inside the main warehouse, Boss," Marcus whispered over the encrypted comms. "They are clustered near the center."
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"Do they believe... a rusted fence... can stop a reckoning?" Ethan murmured, his volume incredibly low, utilizing controlled, measured pauses.
He didn't wait for covering fire. He raised his hand, signaling the simultaneous breach. The silence of the night was violently shattered as high-yield explosive charges detonated on the reinforced steel doors. The concussive blast blew the doors inward in a blinding flash of orange fire. Ethan moved with explosive, blinding speed. He breached the main entrance, his customized weapon raised, ready to purge his own bloodline for the safety of his true family.
