From the mud, from the marsh, from the darkness that swallowed him whole… he rose. Every inch of him screamed survival. Bloodshot eyes, body caked in black sludge, and a snake's corpse at his feet like a warning to anyone who dared to cross him. The world thought he was gone. Dante thought he was dead. But he… he never dies like the rest of us.
And now, Sterling—his right-hand man, the one who knew Kieran better than anyone—was barreling down the lonely German road in a beat-up SUV, eyes scanning every shadow. . Sterling had lost so much… his family, his purpose… yet he refused to believe the lies. He had a master to find, and he was going to find him.
And then… there it was. Movement. Too deliberate to be a bird. Suddenly, Sterling's foot slammed on the brake. The tires shrieked against the road.
"What the hell..." he whispered, his hand instinctively flying to the holster at his hip.
A hundred yards ahead, a shape emerged from the fog.
