I barely had time to register the chaos around me before Victor Hale’s bodyguards formed a protective wall around Howard Grayson, shielding him from Kennedy’s storm of violence. The villa, once a sanctuary, had erupted into utter mayhem. Gunshots and screams cut through the air, mingling with the metallic ring of machetes clashing against reinforced armor. Every instinct in me screamed to act, to intervene, but I knew my priority—Howard and his family had to survive, no matter what.
From my vantage point near the grand staircase, I could see Kennedy tearing through the villa like a predator released from its cage. Each step he took left devastation in its wake, bodies crumpling beneath him, weapons clattering uselessly on the marble floor. Even Victor’s elite men, chosen for their skill a
