Chapter 1 Bang! The steel-reinforced door didn't just open—it exploded inward, ripped from its frame by a hydraulic ram that punched through like a fist of god. The impact sent shrapnel screaming across the room—twisted metal, shattered concrete, sparks that rained down like angry fireflies. Smoke billowed. Glass rained. Men screamed. And then—silence. Kael Morrow didn't flinch. He didn't reach for his gun. He didn't even blink. He just sat there, one ankle crossed over the other, a half-empty glass of eighteen-year-old scotch in his hand, watching the chaos unfold like it was a bad movie he'd already seen twice. This was supposed to be a celebration. Twenty-four hours ago, he'd taken down the last of the Vipers—a rival crew that had been bleeding his territory dry for three years. They'd trafficked weapons, run protection rackets, and once tried to blow up one of his casinos with a car bomb that killed three of his best men. Kael had waited. Planned. Struck when they least expected it—during their own boss's wedding, no less. He'd walked through the reception hall like a ghost, put two rounds in the groom's chest, and disappeared before the bride finished screaming. Tonight, his men were drinking, laughing, counting their cut of the spoils. The warehouse—a converted factory on the waterfront—was packed with over sixty of his crew, plus a dozen women who'd been hired to make the night memorable. Music thumped through speakers the size of refrigerators. Bottles of top-shelf liquor lined every table. Cigars burned in ashtrays that cost more than most people's rent. Now? The floor was littered with bodies. His men. Not dead—just dropped. Stun rounds. Non-lethal takedowns. Professional work that spoke of military precision and cold calculation. Every single one of his guards had been neutralized in under ninety seconds—a feat that would've required at least a dozen highly trained operators. But when the smoke cleared, Kael counted only one silhouette standing i
