The rain hit Gravesend like a confession—cold, relentless, and impossible to ignore.
Adrian Kane leaned against the cracked brick wall of a burned-out café in Old District 6, watching the dying streetlamps flicker like they were trying to remember how to shine. His clothes were stained with blood—some his, some not. Every muscle ached, but his grip on the revolver stayed firm.
Mercer was gone.
Not dead. But taken—again. He'd only lasted forty-three hours out of Ouroboros's hands before the bastards caught up.
This time, they didn't leave a trace.
Except one.
A message on Adrian's burner phone. No number. Just a video.
He'd watched it once. That was enough.
---
The Video:
The camera showed June—the closest thing Adrian had to family. His landlord's daughter. Nineteen. Sharp-tongued. Stubborn. She used to bring him takeout when she thought he forgot to eat.
Now she was tied to a chair, blood trailing from her temple. Gagged. Terrified.
A figure stepped into frame. Black mask. Ouroboros ring. Voice distorted.
> "You took something from us, Kane. We're evening the scales."
Then the screen went black.
---
Present
Adrian kicked open the back door of the motel where the video was geotagged.
Empty.
He swept through rooms like a storm, gun raised, breath tight. All he found were signs they'd been there: a broken rope, blood drops on the floor, cigarette butts with a private military brand only Black Talon used.
They were taunting him.
"Come get her," they were saying. "And die trying."
Adrian didn't feel rage.
He felt clarity.
If Ouroboros wanted a war, he would give them hell.
---
Later That Night – Morgan Voss's Safehouse
Adrian slammed the motel photo evidence on the table.
"They're taking hostages now. Innocents."
Morgan, pale and visibly shaken, whispered, "They know you care. That's your weakness. They're using it to draw you out."
Adrian's voice was ice. "Then it's time I stop being predictable."
Morgan paused. "There's something else. I traced an old identity route. Elias Draeger wasn't the only persona they've watched."
He pulled up a screen.
> Target #036: Eliza Kane. Status: "Integrated."
Adrian blinked. "Integrated?"
Morgan nodded slowly. "She didn't die in the Hayden Scandal, Adrian. She was recruited."
The room fell into silence.
Adrian stared at the screen like it might rewrite itself.
His sister—the one person who had believed in him after everything collapsed—was one of them.
Or had been.
---
Flashback – Seven Years Ago
"Eliza, I can't do this anymore," Adrian said, voice raw from rage and bourbon.
She leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed, golden hair haloed by the streetlight. "Then stop chasing justice in a system designed to destroy you."
"You sound like them."
"No," she said. "I sound like someone who knows when to survive."
---
Back to Present
"Send me her last known access point," Adrian said. "I'll handle it."
Morgan grabbed his arm. "No. This isn't vengeance anymore. This is suicide."
Adrian looked him in the eye.
"If I'm going to die… I'm taking every last one of them with me."
---
Next Day – Downtown Gravesend
The street was packed. Workers. Commuters. Protestors. Rain made everything feel washed in grayscale.
Adrian moved fast, invisible in the chaos, trailing a lead Morgan had pulled from a surveillance ping—an Ouroboros courier carrying biometric data files.
The man wore a tan overcoat, moved like a ghost, unaware Adrian stalked him like a panther in the underbrush.
Then he turned suddenly into an alley.
Adrian followed.
He barely made it five steps before the explosion hit.
A parked van detonated in a bloom of red fire and smoke.
The force slammed him backward into a wall. Glass rained down like razors.
People screamed. Sirens wailed.
Adrian staggered up, ears ringing, vision blurred.
There was blood on the pavement.
But not his.
---
She was lying there. June.
Thrown from the blast. Her body twisted. Her face—
No.
He dropped to his knees beside her.
Her eyes fluttered.
"Adrian…" she whispered. "You… you said you were done with this…"
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice breaking. "I didn't mean for this."
"You always mean to… do good…" she said, blood at her lips. "But good men… don't get to walk away, do they?"
She smiled weakly.
Then she didn't move again.
---
That Night – On the Rooftop
Adrian stared out at the burning skyline, his coat billowing in the storm.
Gravesend felt like a city on the verge of collapse. Police corruption ran deep. The Ouroboros society was no longer hiding—they were testing him, sending messages in ash and fire.
He remembered something Mercer once said:
> "When you fight monsters too long, the only thing that changes is the shape of your own reflection."
Adrian pulled out the Ouroboros ring he'd taken from a dead operative weeks ago.
He slipped it on.
Then he picked up his encrypted phone and dialed a secure line.
A voice answered.
> "This is Black Talon. Authorization code?"
Adrian's voice was cold. Unrecognizable.
> "Initiate deep contract protocol. I want in. No more shadows. No more masks. I want a seat at the table."
> "Name?"
He hesitated. Then spoke the lie with deadly calm:
> "Elias Draeger."