Darkness.
That was the first thing Izana noticed.
A heavy, suffocating darkness pressed against his eyes as consciousness slowly returned. His head throbbed with a dull ache, and a strange stiffness ran through his shoulders.
For a moment, he didn't move.
He simply listened.
The room was silent.
No voices. No footsteps. No distant sounds of traffic or machinery.
Just quiet.
Then the pain in his body became clearer.
A sharp soreness along his ribs.
A tight pressure pulling at his wrists.
Izana slowly opened his eyes.
Nothing changed.
The darkness remained absolute.
His vision adjusted little by little, but there was still no light. Only faint shapes around him.
He tried to move his arms.
They didn't budge.
Something rough dug into his wrists.
Restraints.
His hands were tied behind his back.
Izana inhaled slowly through his nose and tested his legs next.
The chair didn't move.
His ankles were secured as well.
Metal scraped faintly against the floor when he shifted slightly.
A metal chair.
His mind quickly pieced together the situation.
Kidnapped.
The van.
The black bag over his head.
Dante shouting.
Gunfire.
Everything had happened fast.
Too fast.
Now he was here.
Somewhere unknown.
Hours had likely passed.
His head tilted slightly as he listened again.
Still nothing.
The air in the room felt cold.
Empty.
Izana remained completely still.
Waiting.
Then suddenly—
A sharp click echoed through the darkness.
Before Izana could react, a blinding light burst on directly in front of him.
The brightness exploded into his eyes like a flashbang.
Izana winced instantly, his eyes squeezing shut as the harsh light burned through his vision.
Even through his eyelids it felt painfully bright.
His head turned slightly away, trying to escape the glare.
Footsteps followed.
Heavy.
Measured.
Boots striking concrete.
Izana forced his eyes open again, squinting against the blinding light.
All he could see was the intense white beam shining straight into his face.
Whoever had turned it on had positioned it deliberately.
An interrogation light.
Beyond the brightness, two shadows approached.
Large silhouettes slowly becoming clearer.
The sound of a heavy metal door opening echoed behind them.
CLANG.
The noise rang through the room.
Two men stepped forward.
Broad shoulders.
Tall.
Their uniforms were dark and structured.
Izana's eyes narrowed slightly.
Even with the harsh light partially blinding him, he recognized the insignia stitched onto their sleeves.
A symbol he knew well.
Secret police.
An elite unit.
Specialized.
Ruthless.
And very patient.
They existed for one reason.
To hunt powerful criminals who operated above the reach of normal law enforcement.
Men like Izana.
For years they had been chasing him.
Following trails that always went cold.
Investigating operations that always disappeared before they could act.
Every time they got close—
Something stopped them.
The curse.
Anyone who seriously attempted to capture Izana had suffered sudden, catastrophic misfortune.
Car crashes.
Heart attacks.
Explosions.
Even their own investigations would collapse mysteriously.
The curse had protected him without fail.
But that protection was gone now.
And clearly, they had been waiting.
One of the men walked forward and stopped directly in front of him.
He dropped a thick metal folder onto a nearby table.
CLANG.
"You're finally awake."
Izana said nothing.
His eyes remained steady.
The second man circled slowly behind him, examining him from different angles.
Like a predator studying its prey.
The first man crossed his arms.
"You know who we are."
Izana spoke calmly.
"Yes."
The man nodded once.
"Good."
He opened the folder.
Dozens of documents and photographs were inside.
Years of investigation.
Evidence gathered piece by piece.
He pulled out a photograph and held it up in front of Izana.
A warehouse full of weapons.
"Recognize this?"
Izana didn't react.
The agent continued.
"This warehouse was raided three years ago."
"No owner."
"No fingerprints."
"No records."
He tossed the photo onto the table.
"But we know it was yours."
Silence.
Another photo appeared.
A shipping dock.
Crates being unloaded at night.
"You have an impressive network," the man continued.
"Arms trafficking."
"Illegal technology deals."
"International shipments."
He closed the folder halfway.
"We've been tracking you for a long time."
The second agent stepped forward now.
His voice was colder.
"Let's make this simple."
He leaned down slightly toward Izana.
"Tell us where your northern shipments arrive."
Izana looked at him.
Then said calmly,
"I don't know."
The agent stared at him.
Then smiled faintly.
Without warning—
His fist slammed into Izana's jaw.
CRACK.
The metal chair rattled loudly against the floor.
Izana's head snapped to the side.
Pain exploded through his face.
But he didn't make a sound.
Slowly, he lifted his head again.
Blood touched the corner of his lip.
The first agent sighed.
"This will take longer than expected."
The second agent asked another question.
"Who manages your eastern distribution network?"
No answer.
The punch came instantly.
CRACK.
This time the strike landed across Izana's cheek.
His head jerked again.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
But his expression remained calm.
Cold.
Unbreakable.
The agents exchanged glances.
The first man spoke again.
"Where are your weapons stored?"
Silence.
The second agent stepped closer and drove his fist into Izana's stomach.
The air rushed from Izana's lungs.
The chair shifted slightly.
Still—
He didn't speak.
Another punch.
This time to his ribs.
Pain shot sharply through his chest.
But Izana simply breathed slowly through it.
The interrogation continued.
Questions.
Punches.
More questions.
More blows.
Each time Izana refused to answer.
Minutes passed.
Then longer.
Eventually the first agent stepped back, flexing his fingers.
"This man is irritating."
The second agent wiped sweat from his forehead.
"He'll talk eventually."
The first man glanced down at Izana again.
"You've avoided us for years."
His voice hardened.
"But your luck has finally run out."
Izana lifted his gaze toward him.
Completely calm.
Unmoved.
The agent grabbed his collar suddenly and pulled him forward slightly.
"Talk."
Izana said nothing.
For several seconds they simply stared at each other.
Then the agent shoved him back into the chair.
The metal legs screeched against the floor.
"Unbelievable."
The first man closed the folder loudly.
"We're wasting time."
The second agent rolled his shoulders slightly.
"He's stubborn."
"Everyone breaks eventually."
The first man walked toward the door.
"We'll try again later."
The second agent gave Izana one final look.
Cold.
Calculating.
Then both men left.
Their boots echoed across the concrete floor.
The heavy metal door opened.
CLANG.
They stepped outside.
Then the door slammed shut behind them.
CLANG.
A lock clicked.
And suddenly—
The bright interrogation light shut off.
Darkness returned instantly.
Complete.
Silent.
Izana sat alone in the chair again.
His lip bled slowly.
His ribs ached with every breath.
But his breathing remained steady.
Controlled.
He tilted his head slightly back and closed his eyes.
Only one thought crossed his mind.
Leah.
He wondered if she had noticed he was gone yet.
And somewhere deep inside, he knew one thing.
Dante would already be searching.
And when Dante started searching—
The entire city would soon feel it.