The silence of the night in the Thorne residential district was usually only broken by the sound of crickets or a neighbor’s dog. Tonight, however, the air felt heavier, as if dark clouds had just descended to the ground. Ethan walked slowly through a quiet alley behind an old shopping area, the fastest route to the back gate of his wife's family estate. "Where do you think you're going, King of the Sweepers?" The raspy voice echoed through the narrow passage. From behind a pile of damp wooden crates, three large men stepped out. One of them toyed with a metal baseball bat, tapping it against his palm with a terrifying rhythm. "Who are you?" Ethan asked. His voice didn't tremble at all. He still held the plastic bag containing the warm bread he had just bought as a late-night snack for Cla
