Harold King's Private Estate – 2:14 a.m.
Juliana had no patience left for subtlety.
The guards outside Harold King's fortified mansion were high-end mercenaries — former SEALs, maybe some ex-KGB, paid well enough to forget they were disposable. She didn't sneak around them. She walked straight up the front steps, pistol in one hand, dead calm.
When the first one shouted for ID, she shot him in the knee.
When the second raised a rifle, she knifed him under the ribs and left him twitching on the marble tiles.
"That's two," she said into her comm. "Echo, you have eyes?"
"I see everything," came the reply. "Six more inside, two at the east wall, one sniper on the third-floor balcony."
"Take the sniper first."
"On it."
A soft pffft followed a beat later. "Done."
Juliana smiled. "Then let's go introduce ourselves to the King."
_____
2:21 a.m. – Main Hall
The estate was a monstrosity of oil money and bad taste. Chandeliers dripping over leather furniture, floors polished like museum glass, oversized portraits of Harold King grinning beside world leaders who were either dead, deposed, or assassinated. Juliana moved like thunder in heels — fast, loud, and final. She reached the security room and blew the lock off with a wrist charge.
The tech inside barely had time to turn before she pistol-whipped him into unconsciousness. Echo followed, covered in gear and soot, scanning every screen.
"Talk to me," Juliana said.
"King's in the bunker. Sublevel 2. Steel doors. Thermal suppression. He's scared."
"Good. Let him be scared."
Echo paused.
"You sure you want to see this first?"
Juliana turned.
"What?"
Echo tapped into the drive, pulling up flagged surveillance clips. A video loaded. Juliana leaned in. It was her mother. Alive. The footage was old — maybe months — but unmistakable. Rose Da Vinci. Standing in a sterile white room, dressed in surgical blue, speaking with… Nicholas.
Nicholas, alive and smiling. Holding a file with the word RECLAMATION stamped in red.
"She knew," Juliana whispered. "She knew about the program… and she didn't stop it."
"Jules…"
"She worked with them."
2:35 a.m. – Sublevel 2
The steel doors exploded inward, Echo's charge packs turning reinforced titanium into twisted art. Smoke poured into the corridor. Juliana walked through it. Harold King was waiting. He was older than the last time she'd seen him — gray at the temples, trembling fingers, a breathing tube strapped to one nostril. But the eyes… still sharp. Still smug.
"Juliana Black," he said, lips twitching. "Or do you prefer Widow now?" She leveled her gun at his head.
"You sold my family out."
"I saved your life."
"By faking my mother's death? By putting me in a damn experiment?"
"By making you the only one still alive."
She hesitated. Just for a second. That was all he needed. He pressed a button on the side of his chair.
Click. The room went dark. A thump behind her. Echo hit the ground — unconscious. Gas.
Juliana stumbled back, holding her breath, eyes blurring, vision swimming. A shadow moved behind her.
"You really should've seen it coming," said a voice. Preacher.
_______
2:47 a.m. – Unknown Holding Room. She woke up shackled to a chair.
Cold steel. Blood at the edge of her lips. Her arms felt like they'd been hit with bricks. The room was black except for a single hanging light. Across from her stood Preacher. Not smiling.
Not conflicted. Just… blank.
"Why?" she croaked. He sighed.
"Because they own everything. You think you can kill your way to peace? Burn their houses down? You're one girl with a vendetta."
"I trusted you."
"You shouldn't have."
"So what — you sell me, collect your thirty pieces of silver?"
"No." He stepped closer. "I hand you over… and in exchange, they leave my sister alone. That was the deal."
"You betrayed me to save her?"
"Wouldn't you do the same?"
She didn't answer. Because yes. She would've.
_______
2:59 a.m. – Countdown
A door opened. Nicholas walked in. Polished. Trimmed beard. Casual blazer. Eyes like a shark wearing cologne.
"Juli," he said like an old friend. "Look at you. Just like your father."
"You're a liar."
"Of course. But I'm a useful one."
"You killed him."
"No. I gave him the tools to live. He chose to die."
He sat across from her, crossed his legs, and lit a cigarette.
"You want answers, so I'll give you a few before we hand you off to the boys upstairs."
"Hand me off?"
"To the agency. They're prepping a black site. You'll be off the grid before sunrise."
"You think I won't get out?"
He leaned forward.
"I hope you get out. Because if you do, you'll come back… and you'll finally stop pretending you're anything but what we made you."
He flicked ash onto the floor.
"You're not a daughter. You're not a lover. You're not a hero." He smiled.
"You're a weapon."
_____
3:03 a.m. – Fire
The lights exploded. Literally.
Echo's voice screamed through the comm in Juliana's ear — she must've hidden one inside her jacket before going down.
"NOW!"
The ceiling shattered. Smoke bombs dropped. Screams. Bullets tore through the walls. Echo and Nael came crashing through — Nael with dual pistols and a face full of vengeance. Preacher tried to grab her.
Juliana swung her chair into his jaw, breaking his nose. Echo shot his leg. He dropped screaming. Juliana unlocked the cuffs with the key Echo tossed midair.
Nicholas ran. Coward.
_________
3:08 a.m. – Rooftop Escape
Juliana sprinted after him. Up three flights. Through broken glass. Blood trailing from her knuckles. Nicholas climbed the fire escape, gasping. She caught him at the roof's edge.
"Do it," he panted. "Kill me."
"You don't get to beg."
She punched him once. Hard enough to loosen teeth. "You don't get to run."
A chopper circled in the distance — Syndicate transport. She looked down. A blade was strapped to his ankle. She grabbed it. Turned it in her hands.
"Recognize this?" she asked. "It was my mother's."
His eyes widened. She pressed it to his throat.
"I'm not going to kill you tonight, Nicholas."
"No?"
"No."
She stepped back.
"Because I want you t
o watch what happens when the girl you tried to break becomes your goddamn executioner."