The rain fell in relentless sheets, painting the streets of Blackridge in cold, metallic hues. Neon signs flickered like dying stars, and the stench of wet asphalt mingled with the distant scent of blood.

  Alec Vance stood in the shadows of a crumbling alleyway, his sharp gaze fixed on the building across the street. The Syndicate's insignia—a coiled serpent devouring its own tail—glowed faintly above the door. His heart should have raced at the sight of it, but after everything, fear was a distant memory.

  He adjusted his gloves, the leather slick beneath his fingertips. This was it. After three years in the dark, tonight, he returned from the grave.

  The plan was simple: get in, retrieve the ledger, get out. No unnecessary kills. No distractions.

  But then he saw her.

  Through the cracked window on the second floor, Vera Thorne sat with her legs crossed, a glass of wine swirling lazily in her hand. The emerald-green eyes that once haunted Alec’s dreams—now his nightmares—gleamed in the dim light. She looked unchanged. Beautiful. Dangerous.

  "Vera..." he whispered, a name laced with equal parts rage and longing.

  The last time he'd seen her, she'd stood over his bleeding body with the gun still warm in her hand.

  Alec crossed the street, each step measured. The entrance was guarded by two men, their stances casual but their eyes sharp. He reached into his pocket and pressed a small device. A muffled explosion shattered the calm three blocks away. The guards exchanged glances before rushing toward the noise.

  Too easy.

  Slipping inside, Alec moved through the hallways with practiced silence. The Syndicate's heartbeat was unchanged—organized chaos masked as corporate order. He passed offices with monitors flashing coded transactions, each screen a reminder of the underworld's lifeblood: power, control, fear.

  In the main office, the ledger lay on a glass desk. He plugged in a data chip, watching numbers and names download. Names of Syndicate leaders. Corrupt officials. Targets.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His name was still on the list—marked Deceased.

  The device beeped softly, download complete. Alec turned to leave.

  Click.

  The sound of a safety being disengaged.

  "You're either a ghost...or I'm hallucinating."

  Vera stood in the doorway, gun aimed at his chest.

  Alec raised his hands, slowly. "Surprised?"

  Her lips twitched. "No one comes back from what you went through."

  "I did."

  The tension crackled like electricity. The warmth in her eyes didn’t reach her trigger finger. Alec took a careful step forward.

  "Don't." Her voice hardened. "Why are you here?"

  He tilted his head. "Would you believe me if I said I missed you?"

  "No."

  "Then let's go with revenge."

  Her smirk faltered. In that moment, Alec saw it—the fleeting crack in her mask. Doubt. Fear.

  He lunged.

  The shot roared through the room as they crashed to the floor. Pain scorched his side, but adrenaline drove him. He twisted the gun from her grasp and pinned her wrists.

  They were too close now. Her breath mingled with his, her pulse racing beneath his grip. The same pulse he'd once traced lazily with his thumb on sleepless nights.

  "Why, Vera?" His voice broke despite himself. "Why did you betray me?"

  Her smile returned, softer this time. "Because you were too good at the game, Alec."

  The truth hit harder than the bullet wound. The Syndicate had never been his enemy—it had always been her.

  Footsteps thundered toward the office. Alec’s grip tightened for a split second before he released her and bolted toward the window.

  "Alec!" she called after him.

  But he didn’t look back as he crashed through the glass, the cold night air swallowing his escape.

  Hours later, in a safe house across town, Alec stitched his wound with shaky hands.

  The ledger's data scrolled across his laptop screen. Names. Operations. Weaknesses. And buried at the bottom: Project Revenant—the Syndicate's secret resurrection program.

  Vera's name was listed as the project’s handler.

  Alec exhaled slowly. "So...you didn’t kill me. You made me into this."

  The pieces clicked into place. His survival hadn't been luck. It had been deliberate. Her plan.

  "You wanted me to come back."

  The realization sent a chill through him. Vera hadn’t just betrayed him. She’d played a move three years ahead of him.

  But he wasn't her pawn anymore.

  He closed the laptop and reached for his knife, etching a single word into the wooden table:

  Hell Returns.

  The game wasn't over. It was only just beginning.

  [End of Chapter 1]