631 They dragged my maid into the center of my mansion and branded her a thief in front of everyone—but the necklace beneath her collar exposed the accusation as a trap. She wasn’t an ordinary servant. She was the last living witness to the betrayal that slaughtered my family and turned me into the man everyone feared.

I unclipped two extra magazines from my belt, slammed a fresh clip into my Beretta, and whistled a soft two-tone command to Kaiser.

"Kaiser! Guard!" I ordered, pointing toward the hidden passage behind the wardrobe.

The Doberman let out a short, affirmative bark, trotted to the rear of the suite, and pushed open a concealed panel with his snout. Elena took Sofia’s hand and slipped into the darkness of the reinforced corridor, the heavy steel door sliding shut behind them with a heavy hydraulic click.

Once my family—the only piece of my true family left on earth—was secured, the cold, lethal composure that governed my underworld persona descended over me like an iron shroud.

I stepped out into the grand hallway.

The mansion had turned into a kill zone. Smoke from flashbang grenades drifted through the high-arched corridors, mixing with the smell of cordite and copper. Three of my house guards lay dead near the grand staircase, but four mercenaries in black tactical gear lay beside them, neutralized by precise headshots.

I moved through the shadows like a ghost. I didn't use a flashlight; I knew every inch of this mansion because I had designed every wall, every secret alcove, and every sightline after purchasing the property ten years ago.

A mercenary stepped around the corner of the gallery, his assault rifle raised, scanning the gloom with a night-vision visor.

I stepped out from behind a marble pillar, grabbed the barrel of his rifle, twisted it upward as he fired a burst into the ceiling plaster, and drove my combat knife straight up beneath his ballistic helmet.

He collapsed without making a sound.

I picked up his tactical radio, adjusted the earbud, and listened to the encrypted channel.

"Team Leader, this is Alpha," a harsh voice static-cleared through the speaker. "Target female is not in the staff quarters. Repeat, she is not in the staff quarters. Housekeeper Renata is dead—looks like Duca’s men executed her during the initial breach. We are pushing toward the east wing."

"Alpha, this is the owner of the house," I spoke calmly into the radio microphone as I stepped over the dead mercenary. "You picked the wrong mansion to hunt in tonight."

Silence hung on the radio line for two seconds, followed by the frantic voice of the mercenary commander. "All units! Fall back to the grand hall! Duca is loose in the—"