The God of Slaughter with the Seal Lifted

I gripped the Glock 19 with no magazine in it, the muzzle locked on the wooden door of the ICU room.

The handle turned. Cold white light from the hallway cut into the dim ward.

The man who walked in wasn’t a cleaner carrying a submachine gun.

It was Victor Sterling, dressed in a custom Tom Ford suit.

Behind him came a lawyer with a briefcase, and four thick-built men with black scorpion tattoos showing above their collars.

Clearly, Victor had used the Blackwood family’s board authority to disguise Moretti killers as private security and bring them into the intensive care wing.

“Put that scrap metal down, Vance.” Victor glanced at the empty pistol in my hand, a mocking smile curling at his mouth. “You’re not stupid enough to start shooting next to Lily’s life support.”

He was sure I wouldn’t risk a gunfight around oxygen tanks and medical equipment.

I looked at him coldly and tucked the empty gun into the back of my waistband.

The lawyer stepped forward, pulled out two documents, and slapped them onto the table at the foot of Lily’s bed.

“Mr. Vance, this is the divorce agreement. And this one is a declaration surrendering all guardianship rights over Lily Hart, as well as any right to pursue medical liability.”

Victor raised his phone.

Elena was on the screen.

She sat in front of a vanity mirror at the manor, trying on a diamond necklace that threw light in every direction.

“Ares, don’t waste my time.” Elena didn’t even look at the screen directly. Her tone was the same one people used to chase off a stray dog. “Sign it. I don’t want reporters at next month’s wedding asking why I’m still paying bills for a dying burden. You and that girl can stop contaminating my life.”

“She won’t make it through the night.”

I looked at the face I used to know. My voice stayed flat. “And you still want to cut off the last two hours of helicopter transport?”

“That helicopter belongs to the Blackwood family. It isn’t your charity fund.”

Elena gave a cold snort. “Sign the papers, take your pathetic pride, and get out of my sight.”

I didn’t say another word.

The countdown on my military watch had already hit zero. The federal three-year confidentiality period was over. The chains of this disguise had finally reached the moment they were meant to break.

I grabbed the pen from the table, signed both documents hard enough to dent the paper, then threw them into the lawyer’s chest.

“Good.” Victor collected the papers with obvious satisfaction, then gave a signal to the black scorpion killers behind him. “Escort Mr. Vance to the parking garage. Make sure he leaves... safely.”

I knew exactly what he meant.

There were doctors and cameras in the room. He wanted me erased in the blind spot of the underground garage.

“Take care of her. Don’t shut off the machines,” I said to the trembling Dr. Evans before turning toward the door.

The four killers moved at once. They closed in around me in a half-circle and marched me to the elevator.

The elevator dropped all the way to B2.

The metal doors opened, and a heavy wave of exhaust hit my face.

Two black Chevrolet Suburbans were waiting in a surveillance blind spot. Three more armed Moretti thugs stood beside them.

“Mr. Victor said if we cut you up and dump you in the harbor, he’ll give our boss another twenty percent on shipping profits.” The lead killer pulled out a suppressed pistol with a grin.

He never got the chance to raise it.

I ripped the Glock 19 from my waistband and swung it like a steel brick straight into his face.

The heavy frame smashed his nose flat. Blood exploded out. I dropped low and closed the distance, my left hand clamping onto his gun wrist and twisting it outward.

Crack.

The sound of bone breaking rang through the empty garage.

I tore the pistol from his hand and yanked his big body in front of me as a shield.

Bang. Bang.

Two of the others fired instantly. Every round slammed into their boss’s vest.

I leaned the muzzle over his shoulder and fired twice.

Two 9mm rounds punched clean through their foreheads. They dropped onto the concrete like sacks of trash.

The other four finally reacted. They broke for cover behind the vehicles and opened fire.

Rounds slammed into the concrete pillars. Chips of stone sprayed across the floor.

I kicked the dead shield away and rolled hard behind a parked Dodge Ram.

Three years of holding back, spending every day like a puppet pouring drinks and parking cars, and my muscles had been starving for real killing.

I slid under the pickup and caught sight of a pair of tactical boots moving through the gap beneath the chassis.

I fired.

The bullet shattered his ankle.

He screamed and went down. I came out from the rear of the truck and put one round through his head.

In less than ten seconds, only one of the seven Moretti elite killers was still standing.

He crouched behind the open door of a Chevrolet, shaking so badly the pistol in his hand rattled.

He couldn’t understand it. A driver thrown out like trash by a wealthy family wasn’t supposed to have special forces-level tactics or this kind of cold blood.

I softened my steps and moved behind him like a ghost.

The cold muzzle touched the back of his head.

“D-don’t kill me!”

His pants were soaked. His pistol slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

I didn’t waste a word. I drove a heavy punch into his carotid artery and dropped him cold.

The smell of blood spread through the underground garage.

I crouched down and searched the blood-soaked pocket of the lead killer’s jacket, pulling out a black encrypted phone.

Victor’s dealings with the Mafia would have nowhere left to hide once I opened it.

But Lily came first.

I looked at the military watch on my wrist. A green light was flashing.

Aegis Circle founder-level access had been restored.

Using the bloodstained phone, I dialed a number that had been silent for three years.

The line rang less than half a tone before it connected.

“Aegis-1 calling,” I said quietly.

Dead silence answered me for one beat.

Then a low male voice came through, shaking under absolute restraint and respect.

“Boss... you’re finally back.”

“In ten minutes, I want every entrance and exit at St. Jude Medical Center under your control. Prepare a top-tier critical care transport convoy.” I stepped over the bodies as I spoke and headed for the elevator.

“Understood. Aegis Circle East Coast Division is now active.”

In the background, alarms were already screaming, and the roar of heavy helicopter rotors was tearing through the night sky.

“Ms. Vale has personally taken command and is already en route.”

I ended the call and slipped the phone into my pocket.

The Blackwood family and Victor thought they had thrown away dead weight.

They had no idea what they had just unleashed.