Chapter 70
The camera feed crackled to life with a harsh static hiss before stabilizing into a high-definition video. It wasn’t filmed in a studio or on a controlled set, but rather in a concrete room with exposed pipes, harsh lighting, and a single steel chair bolted to the floor. Tied to that chair, bloodied and bruised, was Malcom Garrett. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood trickled down from a cut on his cheek. His once-impeccable suit was torn and soaked in sweat. Across from him stood Damien, calm, composed, and terrifyingly controlled in his rage. The live feed had been hijacked into multiple government and news networks, dark web forums, and even hacked billboards in major cities. The world was watching. Damien turned toward the camera, his eyes burning with righteous fury. "My name
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