"Midnight," Alpha replied.

"We’ll have three teams. Team One will take the east entrance and create a distraction. Team Two will hit the main security hub on the second floor to cut communications and turn off the cameras. Team Three will accompany me to extract William."

"What if Hazard King shows up?" Selina pressed.

Alpha’s smile was cold and sharp. "Then I get to see if the legend lives up to the hype."

Maksim laughed, a low and dangerous sound. "This is going to be a blast."

"This is going to be a fight," Alpha corrected. "By tomorrow morning, William will be back where he belongs, under my control. And Hazard King’s tower will be nothing but rubble and bodies."

Selina stood up and adjusted her dress. "Well, I guess I should wish you good luck."

"We don’t need luck," Alpha replied sharply. "We’ve got firepower and the element of surprise."

"Do you really?" Selina murmured, but neither Maksim nor Alpha noticed her.

Alpha slammed his fist on the table. "Listen up. In ten hours, we’re on the move. I want every man ready, every weapon checked, and all backup plans finalized. Hazard King is about to learn what happens when he messes with the Arthur family."

The mercenaries around them cheered loudly in agreement.

Outside, in the cool night air, Selina pulled out her encrypted phone and typed a quick message:

’They’re coming at midnight. East entrance distraction, second-floor security hub, extraction team for William. 30 men, heavy artillery. Alpha’s leading the extraction team himself.’

She hit send and watched as the message became encrypted and disappeared.

Then, she put her phone back in her purse and walked to her car, her face completely expressionless.

*****

As Liam returned from the meal in the plain office building, he noticed a man standing in front of the screens, wearing a black tactical mask.

He paused in the doorway. "Who are you? Where’s ma’am?" he asked.

The man slowly turned around. "She’s on a call. She’ll be here in a bit."

Liam felt a chill creep down his spine.

Not because of the man’s words.

But because of his voice.

It was deep and unmistakably familiar, painfully so.

The man’s eyes, visible through the mask, were the same stormy gray that Liam saw every morning in the mirror.

Even the white streaks in his dark hair matched.

"No," Liam whispered.

The man tilted his head. "Who am I?" he asked, pointing at himself as if it were a joke. "I know you’re confused."

Then, very slowly, he reached up and removed the mask.

Liam’s knees buckled. He grabbed the table to keep from collapsing.

The face staring back at him was older, worn from years of struggle, but he recognized it immediately.

"Dad?" The word came out shaky and filled with disbelief.

The man, his father, who was supposed to be dead, gave a sad smile.

"Hello, son."

For a moment, Liam was completely frozen. He couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t wrap his head around anything.

His dad was standing there, alive and breathing, when he was supposed to be six feet under, in a grave Liam had visited every year for the last twelve years.

"You... you’re dead," Liam whispered, his voice breaking. "You died. I was at your funeral. I watched them put your casket in the ground."

"Liam—"

"No." Liam shook his head vigorously, backing up until he hit the wall. "No, this can’t be real. You’re not real. This has to be some kind of trick, some kind of—"

His dad stepped forward, hands raised in a calming gesture. "Son, I get that this is a lot—"

"A lot?" Liam’s laugh came out shaky. "A lot? You’ve been gone for twelve years! I mourned you! I—"

His voice completely broke down.

And then, like a floodgate bursting open, everything came rushing out.

Liam lunged forward, closing the gap between them in three quick strides. He slammed into his dad’s chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly in a desperate hug.

"Dad," he gasped, and then he was sobbing, deep, shaking cries that rocked his entire body. "Dad, oh God, Dad—"

His dad wrapped his arms around him right away, holding him tightly. One hand cradled the back of Liam’s head, just like he used to do when Liam was little and had bad dreams.

"I’m here," his dad said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m here, son. I’m here."

Liam clung to him like he was a lifeline. Twelve years of grief, of feeling alone, of believing he had no one, everything came pouring out in broken sobs against his dad’s shoulder.

"I thought you were gone," Liam choked out between sobs. "I thought I lost you forever. I thought—"

"I know. I know. I’m so sorry."

They stood there for what felt like ages, though it was probably just about ten minutes. Liam cried like he hadn’t since he was a child, and his dad held him through it all, whispering apologies and comfort.

Finally, Liam’s sobs started to fade. He pulled back just enough to check his dad’s face and make sure this was real, that he wasn’t dreaming.

His dad’s eyes were wet too, tears rolling down his weathered face.

Liam rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling awkward about breaking down like that. But then it hit him: this was his dad, the man who taught him how to ride a bike, who stayed up late when he was sick, and who meant everything to him.

The man who had apparently faked his own death.

Grief began to twist into something sharper inside him.

Liam took a step back, putting some distance between them. His hands were shaking.

"Where have you been?" His voice came out rough and strained. "All this time, where the hell were you?"

His dad’s face fell slightly. "Liam—"

"No." Liam’s voice grew louder, frustration mixing with his hurt. "You can’t just show up after twelve years and think I’m going to be okay with this. Where. Were. You?"

"I was in hiding—"

"Hiding from what? From whom?" Liam’s chest felt tight as he gasped for air.