It was raining in the city—cold, sharp rain that cut through the neon lights and soaked the cracked pavement of downtown. The kind of rain that washed away everything but the past.
Matherson stood beneath the awning of a rundown convenience store, his hood low, a cigarette burning between his fingers. His eyes, once full of youthful arrogance, were now hard, calculating, and void of mercy. He hadn't spoken his real name in years. Around here, people called him Mace. It was safer that way.
He'd built a life in the shadows—working odd jobs by day, training by night. Street fighting, weapons, surveillance. He learned to be invisible. Learned how to hurt. Learned how to survive. And most of all, he learned who killed his family—and why.
The phone he'd escaped with, his father's old phone, had been the first clue. Hidden deep in its files were recordings, documents, names. His father had uncovered a dark conspiracy—one that involved powerful people, secret deals, and corruption at the highest levels. That disc the assassins wanted wasn't just evidence. It was a death sentence for everyone involved.
And now, after five long years, Matherson had finally found one of them.
He took a drag of the cigarette and flicked it to the curb.
"Tonight," he muttered. "We begin."