A seven-year-old boy ignored every teacher, parent, and police officer in the neighborhood and came straight to me—the man Portland feared most. He begged me to take him home because no one believed what was happening behind his front door, but when I stepped inside, even my hardest men recoiled.

The storm raged violently across the slopes of Mount Hood as our four-vehicle convoy navigated the winding, tree-lined mountain road leading to Vanguard's isolated compound.

The estate was a massive wooden lodge surrounded by a ten-foot steel fence, equipped with motion sensors and automated floodlights.

We didn't bother with stealth this time.

The lead armored truck, driven by Marco, slammed directly through the front iron gates at forty miles an hour, shattering the concrete pillars and plowing straight through the outer courtyard.

Syndicate guards scrambled from the main lodge, opening fire with heavy automatic rifles. Bullets hailed against our armored plating like violent hail, but my team moved with absolute discipline.

We deployed heavy smoke canisters across the courtyard, blinding Vanguard's shooters, before my men poured out of the vehicles, utilizing night-vision optics to neutralize the guards one by one.

I walked through the smoke, my heavy shotgun slung over my shoulder, firing with devastating precision at anyone who raised a weapon against us.

Within ten minutes, the courtyard was quiet.

I kicked open the heavy oak doors of the main lodge, stepping inside the high-ceilinged great room. A massive stone fireplace roared in the corner, illuminating the luxury that Vanguard had bought with the suffering of innocent children.

Vanguard himself was standing near his desk at the far end of the room, holding an assault rifle with trembling hands, his face pale as chalk as he realized his perimeter had been completely annihilated.

"Moretti!" Vanguard shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. "We can talk about this! I'll give you fifty percent of the Northwest territory! Millions, Dominic! Millions!"

I walked steadily toward him, stepping over the fallen bodies of his bodyguards, not slowing my pace for a single second.

"You built your wealth on the backs of children who couldn't fight back," I said, my voice echoing through the vast room like a bell of doom. "You thought because you were powerful, nobody would ever hold you accountable."

Vanguard raised his rifle to fire, but I was faster.

I racked my shotgun and fired a single round into his shoulder, knocking him off his feet and slamming him into the stone fireplace. The rifle clattered uselessly across the hardwood floor.

Vanguard screamed, clutching his shattered shoulder, staring up at me with absolute, helpless terror as I stood over him, the dark barrel of my weapon pointed directly between his eyes.

"Please..." Vanguard begged, tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "Please, Moretti... have mercy..."

I looked down at him, my expression completely stone.