In the split second after Jack Brooks spoke the name "Lana Way," Ron Lee was no longer standing in the living room of the Sutton villa. His mind was violently yanked back ten years, to a desolate wasteland in Northriver Southside.
The memory hit him with the force of a physical blow. It was a nightmare he had spent a decade trying to drown in expensive scotch and blood.
He saw the sky turning black, not from clouds, but from the sheer density of killing intent. He saw the earth cracking open, trees uprooted and thrown like twigs.
He saw the woman in white. Lana Way.
She stood alone against an army. But this wasn't an army of soldiers; it was an army of gods. One hundred martial arts Grandmasters. Men who could shatter boulders with a touch, men who ruled their respective regions like k
