July 16, 2026 – Off the Hudson River 05:30 AM
The roar of engines emerging from the river's darkness sounded like an approaching storm. Thomas Hale's "Reaper" boats glided across the water like black arrows, surrounding Silas Varga's ship. As the dossier Silas had thrown sat in my lap, Elara convulsed one last time in my arms.
"Pull her up!" Silas Varga barked from the deck, raining down orders. "Now!"
Ivy and I secured the wounded Natalia and the near-unconscious Elara onto the rope stretcher. As they were being hoisted up, I looked again at the X-ray Silas had provided. There, in the dead center of my ribcage, just millimeters away from my heart, sat a small, glinting piece of metal. The sudden stabs of pain I had felt in my chest for fifteen years weren't memories; they were caused by a bullet.
When I scrambled onto the deck, Silas Varga approached me. He placed a hand on my shoulder; his touch was as icy as an executioner's rather than a father's.
"You were dead when your father took you from that bridge that night, Michael," Silas said, watching the incoming boats. "I was the one who brought you back to life. The bullet Thomas used to shoot you is still there. It sits next to your heart like a time bomb. If that metal shifts even a millimeter, the legend of Julian Vargas ends."
"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking in the wind. "Why didn't you tell me the truth? Why did you let my father live with this lie?"
"Because back then, we weren't strong enough to stop Thomas," Silas said, drawing a heavy weapon from his waist. "But now... now we will bury his kingdom in the waters of New York. Get ready, because your uncle isn't coming to surrender."
At that exact moment, the first rocket struck the side of Silas's ship. As the impact threw me to the deck, a strange sound emanated from the black leather notebook in my bag. It wasn't the ticking of a bomb; it was a digital signal.
I flipped the notebook open. It wasn't blood leaking from the pages; a thin, biometric sensor hidden inside the binding had ruptured. Thomas hadn't just used the notebook to store secrets; he had used it to track my every move.
I fixed my eyes on the horizon. Thomas's boat was in the lead. He was looking directly at me, holding a sniper rifle. Thomas smiled and pulled the trigger.