Chapter 1
The city of Orion never slept. Towering skyscrapers stretched toward the heavens, their glass windows reflecting the dazzling lights of a world built on power, money, and ruthless ambition. The heart of it all was Xander Tower, a monument to one of the wealthiest and most feared families in the country. It was a symbol of dominance. A fortress of greed.
And tonight, a ghost had returned to haunt it.
A sleek, black military-grade SUV pulled up to the curb in front of the grand entrance. The hum of the engine faded as the doors unlocked with a soft click. From the back seat, a man stepped out, his polished black boots meeting the pavement with silent precision.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and wrapped in a long, dark coat, he exuded an aura of quiet authority. His sharp, chiseled features were like carved stone—cold, unreadable, dangerous. But it was his eyes that were truly terrifying. Obsidian. Cold. Unforgiving.
Damien Xander was home.
A decade had passed since he was cast out, discarded like trash by the family that had once called him their own. Ten years of struggle. Of pain. Of war. He had crawled through the depths of hell and clawed his way back, not as the helpless boy they had abandoned, but as a force of nature.
From the front passenger seat, another man stepped out, scanning their surroundings with a trained eye. Reed Donovan—former Black Phantom Unit operative, Damien's right-hand man, and the only person who had seen Damien at his lowest and still followed him through the fire.
Reed's lips curled into a smirk as he took in the massive building before them. "Still standing, huh? Thought it'd be reduced to rubble by now."
"Not yet," Damien said, his voice like gravel. "But soon."
Reed chuckled. "You always did have a flair for the dramatic, General."
Damien said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on the golden Xander Conglomerate sign above the grand entrance. It was a name that once meant family. Now, it was just a target.
With a slow, deliberate stride, he walked forward. The revolving glass doors spun as suited executives and employees rushed in and out, unaware that a predator had stepped into their midst.
Two security guards stood at the entrance, their sharp eyes scanning for threats. One of them, a burly man with a buzz cut, stepped forward, blocking Damien's path.
"Identification," he demanded.
Damien didn't respond. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a single object.
A silver insignia.
It was small, unassuming—except for the crest engraved in the metal. The emblem of the Black Phantom Unit. The most feared special operations force in the nation.
The guard's face paled instantly. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. He knew what that insignia meant. What kind of men carried it.
"Step aside," Damien said, his voice as sharp as a blade.
The guard hesitated for only a second before he obeyed, moving out of the way. His partner, equally shaken, didn't even try to stop him.
Damien walked through the entrance, his steps slow, deliberate, unhurried.
The Xander family had no idea he had returned.
But they would soon.
And when they did, it would be too late.