It was December 1st, 2000.
The Salvador family was outside, laughing, celebrating.
Poppa T raised his glass, the sunlight catching the amber of the wine.
"Haha, this wine tastes really splendid, right Odette?"
Odette's laugh tinkled like bells. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
"Yes, Poppa. Yes."
The sun warmed the island, music drifted lazily across the villa, and the scent of sizzling steaks wrapped around the yard. Joy hung heavy in the air.
Poppa T leaned back, a satisfied grin on his face.
"Hmm… what a wonderful day. Wouldn't be here if I didn't see my steaks."
The family laughed.
Gabriel jumped up, pointing at Poppa T with exaggerated drama.
"I got one! I got one! Said you wanted a man that can cook, but the one you got… all he does is make mistakes!"
Laughter rolled across the lawn, mixing with the warm December breeze. For a moment, everything was perfect.
Then it wasn't.
A low rumble drifted over the island. A hum, like engines cutting through the quiet.
Poppa T frowned. "Huh… that's strange."
Odette squinted toward the treeline. "Maybe… just the wind?"
But it wasn't.
Shadows moved—too fast, too many—slicing through the joy like knives.
Matt's stomach dropped. He froze. Something screamed inside him, but his legs refused to move.
"Mom! Dad!" Gabriel shouted.
Poppa T raised his hands, but chaos swallowed him. Shots rang. Screams shredded the air.
Matt ran. Branches whipped his face. Heart hammering, he tried to reach the house, but the island's laughter had already died.
Smoke curled from the villa. Ash mixed with the scent of burning steaks.
Matt fell to his knees. Breath caught. Eyes blurred with tears he couldn't shed. Death surrounded him, and he was alone.
But then—he heard it.
A cry.
Odette. His mother.
He ran toward it, chest aching, but a gunshot cut through the air before he could reach her. Silence followed.
Through the smoke, he glimpsed a man—tattooed arm, face hidden—vanishing into the chaos.
"I… see a tattoo…" Matt whispered, voice trembling.
He tried to move closer, tripped over a root.
"Who's there?"
Shots fired again. Matt pressed himself into the shadows, branches scratching his arms, heart hammering like a drum.
Men in black, faces masked, guns ready—they were predators, searching for survivors.
One stepped too close. Matt held his breath, willing the bark of a tree to hide him.
Then—a scream. Another human cry.
The men hesitated. One shouted toward the sound. In an instant, they abandoned Matt, leaving him trembling, hidden, alive.
He peeked through the branches. Gabriel.
A red stain blossomed on his shirt. His brother fell.
Matt couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Only watch.
"I think this is all of 'em," one gunman said.
"No… there's someone in that corner," another muttered.
Matt's breath caught. "Oh God…"
The phone on a gunman's belt rang. A cold voice barked orders.
"Yes… yes we are," the lead said finally. "Leave there now!"
Engines faded into the night.
Matt stepped out slowly. The villa was silent. Smoke twisted into the sky. Ash drifted like snow.
Every laugh, every cheer—gone.
His family? Vanished.
Only the silence remained.
The sea buried everything.
Matt wandered along the shore, discovering remnants of a life stolen: shoes half-sunken in sand, a broken kite tangled in mangroves, his mother's apron darkened with ash.
The village had given this narrow reef to his grandfather, Salvatore, for saving fishermen in a storm. Now it smelled of iron, blood, and greed.
He was fourteen when the boat arrived. That night, he walked alone, watching the moonlight glitter across the water, feet crunching through shells, the smell of smoke burned into his memory.
Kneeling in the sand, Matt let the tide lap against his legs. He didn't move. Couldn't. Every shadow was a threat. Every whisper of wind was a voice calling his name.
Finally, when the sun dipped low, he forced himself to stand. His legs shook. His chest burned. He committed the wreckage to memory: scattered plates, blood on sand, the mangled kite.
No one was coming to help. No one would. He had to survive. Not just for himself—for them.
And somewhere deep inside, something dark, cold, and unyielding sparked.
If he survived, he promised, he would make them pay.
And that night, Matt realized: survival wasn't enough. He needed answers. Justice. Revenge.
The hunt had begun.