Warning lights bled red across the helicopter cabin as the air tightened like a fist. Star sat still, hands folded, one eye turning gold. The aircraft shook. Bullets fired—then froze inches from her face. Her dress darkened into black and gold, symbols burning across her skin. She lifted a finger. Gravity bent. The bullets reversed, ripping through steel. The helicopter fell away in flames as her body dissolved into a roaring storm of sand rising into the night sky.

The Corvette slowed as red and blue lights flared behind us. “Are we speeding?” I asked. Jakari shook his head. “No… the car’s stolen.” Two cop cars pulled up; their badges didn’t match anything Jayla could find. “They’re fake cops!” she yelled. Before we knew it, they attacked. Jakari moved like a storm, disarming and taking down the officers with precision. I watched, frozen, as my hands shook. Once it was over, Jakari grabbed me, and we raced back to the warehouse, hearts pounding, silence hanging heavy over what just happened.

Jakari’s eyes burned—one vivid pink, the other black with a white line—heart pounding like war drums. Soldiers lunged, bullets screamed, but he moved like a ghost, disarming, dismantling, leaving bodies crumpled in his wake. Mara’s laugh froze as she saw him, fear cutting through her pride. One final strike, her body collapsed, blood spilling, the room silent but for Jakari’s ragged breaths. He turned, walked past the chaos, pulling the necklace from his pocket and dropping it at Asia’s feet. “We’re done,” he said, cold. She stared, tears brimming, as he walked away.

The ground collapsed beneath Star, slamming her into stone hard enough to steal her breath. Cold flooded the chamber as a crowned shadow descended, beautiful and merciless. Darkness surged into her eyes, her body arching as her tattoos burned and spread, carving something ancient into her flesh. Azrathion stopped the soldiers with one look. This wasn’t corruption. It was inheritance. When Star rose, eyes glowing darker pink, her smile was small and lethal. The world had misjudged her—and it would pay.

Star sat in silence as money passed through her hands, calm where others would rush. Lives failed her. Fortunes shifted. It meant nothing. Orders were given. Blood was spilled. Empires expanded. When Jakari’s name surfaced, her attention sharpened—not with fear, but hunger. Arkansas was closing. Florida was next.

I stepped away, alone in the observation bay. Holograms of Jakari’s shoulder hovered in front of me, angles and micro-movements glowing softly. Every twitch, every flare of pain, every subtle adjustment I noted. My heart counted what the readouts couldn’t: his stubbornness, his precision, the way he carried danger like a second skin. I leaned closer, tracing the lines. Not just his shoulder. Him. I sighed, forcing focus back to numbers—but I knew, quietly, I’d always been watching him more than anyone else did.

The hallway narrowed. No windows. Red lights bled across steel floors. I moved slow, rifle ready. The server core ahead hummed like a heartbeat. Guards froze, oblivious. One by one, I dismantled them—precision, silence, brutality. Jayla’s voice cut through static: “Jakari, you’re in the blind zone.” I plugged in her drive. Data flooded my HUD—contracts, shipments, assassinations. Alarms flared. I yanked the drive free, heart steady. “Got what we came for,” I said. Jayla’s voice whispered, “I’ve got you. No matter what.”

The nightmare followed me awake—no images, only darkness and red eyes watching. A roar shook my bones. Asia slept beside me, exhausted, unaware. I kissed her forehead and left before the fear could speak. Miles burned under my feet. Steel screamed in my hands. Discipline kept the abyss behind me. Later, the drone showed Little Rock alive and ignorant. Then the building appeared—too clean, too guarded. A woman sat calmly inside. “That’s her,” I said. On the rooftop, the city moved below. Then Jayla’s voice cut sharp: “Jakari—get down. Now.”

The forest withdrew before him. Sound failed. Distance lost meaning. Men moved, then did not. Orders were spoken to emptiness. This was not a battle—it was an audit. Resistance lasted seven minutes, not because it was strong, but because mortality requires time to realize it no longer applies. When judgment finished, the world exhaled and forgot their names. Somewhere far away, something listening understood: correction had resumed.

Rain sliced across the windshield. Jayla drove, precise and silent, while shadows clung to the road like predators. Lina hunched over her sketchpad, pencil moving faster than her pulse. Evelyn Crowe’s house rose from the earth, dark and breathing, and inside, the air shifted. “He’s coming,” Evelyn said, eyes locking on Jakari. My chest tightened. I glanced at the group: Asia poised, Jayla calculating, Lina trembling yet defiant. Whatever came for us, it would face all of us. Together.