They dragged my maid into the middle of my mansion and called her a thief in front of my entire staff—but when a pendant slipped from beneath her collar, I realized the accusation was a setup. She wasn’t just a servant. She was the last living witness to the massacre that destroyed my family fifteen years ago.

The eastern treeline erupted in a controlled flash of blinding white light and concussive sound.

From the command center monitors, I watched the thermal silhouettes of two advancing mercenaries dissolve into chaotic motion as the perimeter claymores detonated, shredding the thick brush and sending heavy steel shrapnel whistling through the pine trees.

“Direct hit on two targets,” Marcus’s voice crackled over the comms, punctuated by the rhythmic, sharp pop of suppressed 5.56 rifle fire from the perimeter guard towers. “They’re pulling back into the ravine. They didn't expect live defenses; they thought they were walking into a residential break-in.”

“They’re professionals,” I warned, leaning closer to the thermal feed. “Don't let them flank the greenhouse. That’s our blind spot.”

“Already on it, Boss. Squad two is moving to seal the gap.”

I turned my attention back inside the room. Little Mia stirred on the sofa, whimpering softly in her sleep, her tiny hands clutching the edge of the cashmere blanket. Elena leaned over her, stroking her hair, whispering soothing reassurances while her own hands shook uncontrollably.

“Elena,” I said quietly, walking over to stand beside the sofa.

She looked up, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“When this is over,” I said, my voice steady and resolute, “you and Mia are leaving this country. I have a private airstrip in Nova Scotia, a safe house in the Swiss Alps, and full documentation under new identities waiting. You’ll never have to look over your shoulder again.”

“And you?” she asked, her voice cracking. “What happens to you, Lorenzo?”

“I stay,” I said simply. “As long as there is even one breath left in the men who murdered my family, my war isn't over.”

Suddenly, the overhead lights in the mansion flickered violently and died.

The emergency generators kicked in two seconds later, bathing the hallways in a dull, amber industrial glow. But the computer monitors on my desk didn't just flicker—they went entirely black, replaced by a single, flashing red text box:

WARNING: SYSTEM OVERRIDE DETECTED. FIREWALL BREACHED.

Marcus’s voice exploded through the comms, shouting over the sound of automatic gunfire.

“Boss! They’ve hit the main server junction in the basement! They’re using an electromagnetic pulse charge—our internal cameras are going down block by block! They’re inside the—”

The transmission cut off with a burst of high-pitched static.

My heart hammered against my ribs. The server room was fifty yards down the hall from the holding cell where Renata was locked away.