The first time Dante Caruso laid eyes on Clara Hayes, she was trading away her last lifeline to the outside world.

The interior of the plant was a labyrinth of hanging chains, rusted meat hooks, and freezing air.

"Caruso is here!" a Russian guard yelled from a catwalk.

Dante didn't flinch. He raised his weapon and fired, taking the man out instantly.

Dozens of Romanov’s men swarmed the floor. Dante moved with the precision of a machine, executing tactical reloads, using the heavy steel pillars for cover. He was a one-man army fueled by pure, unadulterated rage. Every time a thug stepped into his line of sight, they fell.

He moved deeper into the facility, his bespoke suit stained with gunpowder and blood. He took a graze to his left shoulder, but he didn't even slow down. The pain was irrelevant.

Finally, he kicked open the double doors to the central freezer.

Inside, Victor Romanov was holding Clara by her hair, a gun pressed to her temple. Leo was crying in the corner.

"Drop the guns, Dante!" Victor screamed, his bravado entirely gone, replaced by the panicked realization that his entire syndicate had just been slaughtered. "Drop them or she dies!"

Dante slowly lowered his weapons, letting them clatter to the frozen concrete floor.

"Let them go, Victor," Dante said, his voice eerily calm. "This is between you and me. You want my territory? It's yours. Just let her walk out of here with her boy."

Clara looked at Dante, her face bruised but her eyes fierce. "Don't do it, Dante! He'll kill us all anyway!"

"Shut up!" Victor struck Clara with the butt of his gun.

That was his fatal mistake. For a fraction of a second, the gun left Clara’s temple.

Dante didn't hesitate. He pulled a hidden throwing knife from his sleeve and whipped it forward with lethal velocity. The blade buried itself deep into Victor’s throat.

Victor dropped the gun, clutching his neck, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing to the floor, choking on his own blood.

Dante rushed forward, pulling Clara into his arms.