Before Cross could answer, the building shuddered. A heavy thump echoed outside—rotor blades. The sound grew, deafening, until dust rained from the ceiling.
Cross's stomach sank. He knew that sound.
The Black Legion's transport helicopter touched down in the courtyard, and with it came the man himself.
Through the smoke and chaos, Victor Kane stepped into the station. Tall, broad-shouldered, his scarred face lit by firelight. His presence alone silenced his men. He carried no weapon—he didn't need one. His power was absolute.
"Cross!" Kane's voice thundered through the halls, deep and mocking. "You should have stayed in the grave you dug for me."
Cross raised his rifle, fury burning through every nerve. Elena's gaze flickered—fear, recognition, something deeper.
Kane's men swarmed the building. Cross and Elena stood at the vault's threshold, Reyes shouting defiance from the floor below.
The showdown was here.
And for the first time, Cross realized the truth: Kane didn't just want him dead. Kane wanted to break him.