The young hostess at the front desk blanched under Colin Drake’s aggressive glare. “Do you know who this is?” Colin repeated, his voice carrying clearly over the soft jazz playing in the foyer.

Victor Kross panicked. He scrambled up the steps into the fighting cage, grabbing Sophie by the hair and pulling his handgun against her temple.

"Show yourself, Hale!" Kross screamed, his eyes darting wildly across the dark rafters. "Show yourself or I blow her head off!"

The emergency backup lights flickered on, casting a dim red glow over the blood-soaked gym floor.

Mason stepped out from behind a row of heavy punching bags. His tactical vest was splattered with oil and blood, his Glock held low at his side, his gray eyes burning with pure, unadulterated fury.

"Dad!" Sophie cried through her tape.

"I'm here, baby," Mason said softly, his voice impossibly calm amidst the carnage. "I'm right here."

"Drop the gun, Hale!" Kross yelled, pulling Sophie tighter against his chest. "Drop it or she dies!"

Mason stopped ten feet from the cage door. He looked at Kross, then looked at his daughter.

"You know what my specialty was in the Division, Kross?" Mason asked quietly. "Angle geometry under pressure."

Before Kross could process the words, Mason didn't shoot Kross. He shot the heavy steel tension cable holding the corner of the cage chain-link wall.

SNAP!

The high-tension cable snapped like a whip, flying across the ring and striking Kross directly in the face with incredible force.

Kross screamed, dropping his gun as he fell backward onto the canvas.

In a fraction of a second, Mason cleared the cage rail in a single leap, dropping onto Kross like a falling anvil. He smashed his fist into Kross’s jaw, knocking him unconscious instantly before the man could even reach for his knife.

Mason dropped to his knees, pulling his knife and slicing the zip-ties from Sophie's wrists, pulling the tape gently from her mouth.

Sophie threw her arms around her father's neck, sobbing uncontrollably. "Dad! Dad! I was so scared!"

"Shh... it's over, Sophie. It's over," Mason whispered, burying his face in her hair, holding her like she was the only precious thing left in the universe.

In the corner of the gym, Jace Rourke stood frozen in absolute horror, watching the waiter he had tried to humiliate standing over a pile of dead assassins.

Mason stood up slowly, turning his head to look at Jace.

Jace dropped to his knees on the concrete floor, his hands raised in total submission, tears streaming down his face. "Please... please don't kill me... please..."