January 1, 2026 – Chicago Time: 08:30
The first morning of the new year had descended on Chicago not like a celebration, but like a funeral. The sky was gray, like a dirty sheet. Michael stood on the cold floor of the clock tower, trying to wash the smell of gunpowder from his hands. The explosion in Waukegan still echoed in his mind, but the real noise was inside.
"Elara," he murmured.
It didn't take a genius to predict Luca D'Angelo's next move. Luca knew about that night on Dawson Bridge; he knew Michael had killed a man for his sister. A monster's easiest prey is its victim's most beloved.
Michael jumped to his feet. He put on his coat, slipped the silenced Glock into his waistband. Defense was over. If Luca touched Elara, he would leave no stone unturned in Chicago.
Time: 10:00
Elara Hale's Studio – West Loop
Elara had fallen asleep at the editing table working on her documentary. Her headphones were still around her neck. She was startled by a loud knock on the door.
"Michael?" she yelled toward the door. The news of her brother's death had shattered her world, but a voice inside her said he wouldn't go so easily.
When she opened the door, she saw not Michael, but two large, grim-faced men. The man in front, with a disgusting smirk on his face, wasEnzo.
"Good morning, little lady," said Enzo, pushing the door open with his shoulder as he entered. "Your brother seems to have left you a little lonely. But don't worry, Mr. D'Angelo is waiting for you for breakfast."
Elara took a step back and grabbed the scissors on the table. "Get the fuck out of here! I'm calling the police!"
Enzo laughed, and the man behind him knocked the scissors out of Elara's hand in one swift motion and grabbed her by the arm. "The police? Half of the Chicago police force is on our payroll, sweetheart. Now be a good girl, or I'll have to... change that pretty face of yours."
Just then, the back window of the studio shattered with a loud bang. A smoke bomb fell inside. Within seconds, the room was filled with thick white smoke.
"What the hell is going on?" Enzo yelled, drawing his gun.
A shadow rose from the smoke. Fast as a ghost, silent as a predator. Michael grabbed the first man from behind and plunged his knife all the way into the man's throat. As the man's blood splattered onto Elara's editing desk, Michael turned to the second man, Enzo.
Enzo fired randomly, but Michael had already moved. Michael came up behind Enzo, grabbed his gun hand, and bent it until bones cracked. Enzo's scream of pain filled the studio.
Michael pinned Enzo to the floor, pressing his knee into his chest. He shoved the barrel into the man's mouth. "Did you forget to tell Luca, Enzo?" Michael said, his voice ice cold. "The dead are more dangerous than the living."
"Hale... Don't... We're just doing our job!" Enzo growled.
"Your job is done, son of a bitch," Michael said and pulled the trigger.Puff.With the muffled sound of the silencer, Enzo's head hit the floor.
Time: 11:15
Back Alley of the Studio
Elara was trembling, looking at the blood on Michael and his changed face. "Michael... You... You're alive. But this... This isn't you."
Michael held his sister's shoulders. "It's me, Elara. But I'm not the Michael you knew. I've become what I needed to be. Listen to me, I'll take you to a safe place. Ivy will pick you up."
"That journalist woman? Michael, what's going on?"
"It's Asher Burke, Elara. It's Luca D'Angelo. It's the shitty legacy our father left us. Don't ask questions now, just do as I say."
Just then, Natalia's civilian car appeared at the end of the street. Michael gritted his teeth. "Damn it, how did Natalia find this place?"
Natalia got out of the car and walked toward Michael, gun in hand. She had seen the bodies on the ground. "Michael! Stop right now!"
Michael pushed Elara into Ivy's black minivan waiting a little further ahead. "Go, Elara! Ivy, drive!"
As the minivan sped away, Michael raised his hands, but his face still wore that dark, "Ezel"-like smile. Natalia came up beside him and pinned him against the wall.
"Did you kill them with your own hands?" Natalia asked, her voice filled with disappointment and anger.
"I cleaned them up with my own hands, Natalia," Michael said, leaning toward Natalia's face. "Your beloved laws couldn't stop these bastards. I stopped them."
Natalia whispered as she cuffed Michael's wrists: "I told you I couldn't protect you, Michael. What are we going to do now?"
"Now," said Michael, "we'll wait for Luca to find me. Because these cuffs are no obstacle for me; they're my ticket to Luca's door."