(Voiceover – Daniel, heavy rasp, cigarette-smoked cadence, thick street swagger) *"Now, I bet you thought this whole fuckin' circus was over... but nah, dog. You’re out of your damn mind if you thought this was the end. This is just how it all starts, man. This is how I got dragged head-first into a bullshit war—one I didn't even ask for, and one I sure as shit didn't want. I was up on my mountain, trying to live a quiet life, carving my rugs, welding my metal, and keeping my nose clean. But these motherfuckers just couldn't leave well enough alone. They poked the wrong damn bear and woke up a dark, ugly side of me I thought was locked away forever. And I’ll tell you right now... looking at the mess I just made? Even if I hate to admit it, even if a part of me wishes I was still sleeping peacefully up on that ridge... I found out something real scary about myself tonight. I found out I'm still damn good at tearing a world apart. Turns out, this little valley was just a drop in the bucket of something way bigger, way dirtier, and way more fucked up than I ever imagined."* The echoing BOOM of the .357 finally faded out of the tight office space, leaving only heavy white smoke drifting through the beams of tactical flashlights. All those laser sights stayed pinned straight onto my chest, red dots trembling on my vest. The commander stood there staring at Cruz’s lifeless body, then slowly raised his eyes to meet mine, jaw tight, realizing he couldn't stop what was already set in motion. The smoke slowly cleared, swirling around the tactical boots of the operators who had the room completely locked down. I lowered the smoking revolver, sliding it back into my holster with a sharp click, and let out a long, slow breath. The adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, humming hot and fast. The commander stepped closer, breaking the heavy silence of the room. He didn't flinch at the blood, and he didn't blink at the execution I just carried out right in front of his entire squad. Instead, his eyes narrowed as he studied me—really looked at me—trying to put the pieces together. "I've been staring at intel files for ten years trying to figure out where you went, Quezada," the commander said, his voice low, sharp, and analytical. "Nobody walks away from the syndicate clean. Nobody just vanishes into the mountains unless they're running or hiding. But watching you move tonight? Seeing how surgical and ruthless you were with that blade... that ain't just survival. That's pure muscle memory. You didn't even blink." I gave him a hard, cold look, wiping a smear of blood off my cheek. "I told you, man. I'm retired. I stay on my mountain." "Yeah, well, your mountain just got blown wide open," the officer replied, signaling his men to secure the perimeter. "And whether you like it or not, your little quiet life up there is done. You pulled the trigger on a much larger chessboard tonight, son. And because of that, you don't get to just walk away." Paco stepped up beside me, resting a hand near his piece, while Beast let out a low, warning rumble that made the front-line operators tense up. "What's that supposed to mean?" Paco spat, his eyes narrowing at the tactical squad. The commander looked between the two of us, completely unbothered by the giant Cane Corso. "It means someone very high up on the food chain has been tracking these ripples. Someone who knows exactly who Daniel Quezada is, how you operated back in the day, and what you’re still capable of when you're pushed. And that person doesn't want you dead, Quezada... they want a conversation." I stared at him, my jaw tight, feeling the heavy, inescapable pull of a past I thought I left buried under ten years of dust. "Pack your gear," the commander said, turning toward the shattered doorway. "You're riding with us. Somebody important wants to talk to you, and trust me... even if you hate every second of it, you're gonna go."

Just the Beginning