The morning started like every other morning. Brody’s alarm went off at 5:45, the same as always. He lay still for exactly four seconds before

Ten minutes later, the rainy alley behind Brody’s apartment building was dead silent.

The side door of the gray delivery van pulled open.

Brody stepped out into the rain, wearing his faded rain jacket. He dragged Viktor and the three other unconscious mercenaries out of the building one by one, tossing them unceremoniously into the back of their own van like bags of trash.

He took all their weapons, radios, GPS devices, and cell phones, stacking them neatly inside a heavy metallic tool chest.

He slammed the van's rear doors shut, pulled a set of spare keys from Viktor's tactical vest, and locked the doors from the outside.

As he turned around, he saw the black Cadillac Escalade pull slowly up the alleyway, its headlights illuminating the falling rain.

The passenger window rolled down, revealing Marin Lockidge and Arthur Vance. Both of them were staring at Brody with expressions of unadulterated shock. They had watched from their security monitors as four tier-one mercenaries entered the building—and ten minutes later, watched a single technician carry them out like laundry.

Arthur slowly took off his glasses, shaking his head. "Incredible. Absolutely incredible. You took out a four-man elite strike team in eleven minutes... without firing a single shot."

"They made too much noise," Brody said flatly, wiping rainwater from his forehead. "And their footwork was terrible."

Marin stepped out of the Escalade, stepping over a puddle in her expensive leather boots. She looked at the locked gray van, then up at the third-floor window of Brody's apartment.

"They'll send more, Brody," she said softly. "Apex Vanguard is an international network. As long as my former COO is paying them, they won't stop until the threat is eliminated."

"They won't send more," Brody replied.

Marin raised an eyebrow. "How can you be so sure?"

Brody pulled out Viktor’s encrypted tactical phone, which was currently glowing with an active, incoming call from an unlisted number in Geneva, Switzerland.

Brody swiped the screen to answer, putting it on speakerphone.

"Viktor?" a cold, aristocratic voice spoke through the speaker in a heavy French accent. "Is the target eliminated? Is the Lockidge woman secured?"

Brody leaned down toward the phone microphone.

"Viktor is currently sleeping in the back of a delivery van," Brody said into the speaker. His voice was calm, steady, and utterly terrifying. "My name is Kellen Brody. I am the man who destroyed your lobby team this morning, and I am the man who just broke your strike team in my living room."

Silence stretched over the satellite line from Geneva.

"Mr. Brody..." the French voice began, a flicker of hesitation creeping into his tone. "You are interfering in a multi-million-dollar corporate transaction—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Brody interrupted, his tone cutting through the speaker like a razor. "I have captured four of your senior operatives. I have their biometric data, their weapon serial numbers, and their encrypted comms logs. In precisely five minutes, I am transmitting these files to the Department of Defense, the FBI Tactical Operations Center, and Interpol."

"You wouldn't dare," the French voice hissed. "That would expose your own identity to the authorities."

"I spent twelve years operating in places that don't exist," Brody said softly. "The authorities already know who I am. But if those files reach Interpol, Apex Vanguard will be declared an international terrorist organization by midnight. Your bank accounts will be frozen, your safe houses raided, and your clients arrested."

The line went completely dead as the executive in Geneva digested the terrifying reality of his situation.

Ten seconds passed. Fifteen seconds.

The French voice came back on the line, sounding distinctly pale and shaken. "What are your terms, Mr. Brody?"

"Two terms," Brody stated. "First, you terminate your contract with Marin Lockidge's former COO immediately and turn over all evidence of his embezzlement and assassination orders to federal prosecutors. Second... Seattle is officially off-limits to Apex Vanguard forever. If I see one of your men within fifty miles of this city, I won't call Interpol. I will come for you personally."

A long beat of silence hung in the rain-soaked alley.

"Contract terminated," the French voice whispered.

The line clicked off.

Brody tossed the encrypted phone onto the hood of the Escalade. He wiped his hands on his jeans and looked at Marin, who was staring at him as if he were a myth brought to life.

"Your COO will be in federal custody by morning," Brody told her calmly. "Apex Vanguard won't bother you again. Your company is safe."

Marin swallowed hard, her chest heaving slightly under her cashmere sweater. "And you? What about your quiet life?"