In a dark room on the outskirts of the city, the glow of a laptop screen was the only source of light. Shopia Joy sat on an old wooden chair, her legs casually crossed, while across from her stood a man with a scar slashing down his left cheek—Darren Volk, a name that had lived only in the dark corners of Olivia Grace’s memory.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive,” Shopia said coldly.

Darren let out a low, raspy chuckle. “You’re not exactly the type to die easily either, Shopia. And it seems… we still share the same enemy.”

Shopia sneered. “Olivia Grace.”

Darren clenched the beer bottle in his...