Chapter 56:
The night was as thick as blood and just as suffocating.
Down in the forgotten veins of the city, where the sun's light was little more than a memory, two fight clubs were burning with chaotic energy.
Their patrons, a riot of primal instincts and violent thrills, were completely oblivious to the shadow creeping toward them—a shadow that would engulf them before dawn.
In an alley drenched in the sickly glow of dying streetlights, two teams of well-dressed men moved with deadly intent.
Their suits, crisp as if freshly pressed, hardly betrayed the storm brewing beneath their polished exteriors.
These men were whispers in the night, predators in human form.
Tristan, their leader, led one group of five toward the more fortified of the two clubs.
His ice-blue eyes flickered with a focused intensity, gleaming like shards of broken glass.
He didn't need to say a word.
