Victoria Ashford violently yanked eight-month-old baby Mia’s blanket while four-year-old Clara Marlowe refused to let go

Adrian stood motionless in the ruined doorway, his towering frame exuding a suffocating, lethal aura. He had discarded his firearms. In his right hand, he held a dark, serrated combat knife. The metallic scent of blood and gunpowder clung heavily to his ruined tuxedo.

"The game is over, Marcus," Adrian whispered, his deep, raspy voice vibrating with absolute, uncontrollable fury.

Marcus peered out from behind the dresser, his face draining of all color. "No... the Ashford men couldn't have fallen that fast!"

"They were ignorant pawns. Just like you," Adrian stepped slowly into the room, his predatory eyes locking onto the blood staining Catherine’s sleeve. The rage inside him snapped its final chain. "You dared to shoot my sister."

"Wait, Adrian! We can negotiate!" Marcus panicked, dropping his empty pistol and raising his hands in surrender. "I did this to protect the syndicate! Elena was a civilian weakness!"

"Elena made me human," Adrian replied, his voice dangerously low as he closed the distance. "You turned me into a monster. And now, you will face it."