The pinnacle of the Carlax Tower pierced the storm clouds like a silver needle, a monument to a man who believed he was untouchable. While the "Cathedral" burned on the Mississippi, the real heart of the rot was here, in the penthouse office of Mayor Rob Jones. Tonight, the building was hosting a "Vision for Sumlin" gala. Downstairs, the elite of Tennessee sipped champagne; upstairs, the architect of their misery was watching his empire crumble in real-time.

  Devin Stone didn't take the elevator.

  Three hundred feet above the street, the Black Ghost clung to the glass exterior of the tower. He activated the gravity-control system on his wrist, shifting the suit's internal mass. To the sensors of Project Aegis, he should have been a massive electronic signature, but the storm and Wesley's digital interference had turned him into a phantom.

  "I'm in position, Wes," Devin whispered, his voice-modulator fighting the roar of the wind.

  "Initiating the blackout," Wesley replied. "In three... two... one... Burn it down."

  Across the city, every digital billboard, every news feed, and every smartphone in the Carlax ballroom flickered. The "Vision for Sumlin" presentation was hijacked. Instead of blueprints for new parks, the screens erupted with the OP-RETRIBUTION files. The murder log of Pastor James Stone, the Carlax shipping manifests for military explosives, and the recorded frantic calls of Michael Lee at the shipyard flooded the public domain.

  The digital disruption was total. Jones's secure servers groaned under a massive DDoS attack as Wesley pumped terabytes of incriminating evidence into the clouds.

  Devin shattered the reinforced glass of the penthouse and stepped into the office.

  The room was vast, filled with mahogany and the scent of expensive cigars. Mayor Rob Jones sat behind his desk, not cowering, but staring at a tablet that was currently bleeding his secrets to the world. He looked up, the flickering light of the monitors reflecting in his cold, calculating eyes.

  "I expected the SEAL to be more subtle," Jones said, his voice devoid of fear. He leaned back, a glass of bourbon in his hand. "You've ruined the evening, sir. I hope the theater was worth it."

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  The Black Ghost didn't stop. He crossed the room in heavy, measured strides, the black armor gleaming. He reached across the desk, grabbed Jones by the silk lapels of his suit, and hauled him over the mahogany.

  "The theater is over, Rob," Devin growled, his white triangular eyes inches from the Mayor's face. "The evidence is out. Federal task forces are detaining your police chief as we speak. You have nowhere left to hide."

  "You think a few files change the order of things?" Jones sneered, even as he dangled over the floor. "Sumlin belongs to Carlax. I built this city. I own the ground you're standing on."

  "You built it on the bodies of better men," Devin said. He threw Jones into his high-backed leather chair. "You sent Sarah Miller to kill a preacher because he stood in the way of a profit margin. You used the Red Knights to turn my home into a war zone."

  "I did what was necessary for progress!" Jones shouted, his composure finally snapping. "James Stone was a relic! He was holding back the expansion! I am the future of Tennessee!"

  Suddenly, the office doors burst open. Detective Anna Harris stepped in, her service weapon leveled at the Mayor. Behind her, a handful of state troopers moved to secure the exits.

  "Robert Jones," Anna said, her voice ringing with the authority of the law he had tried to break. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit domestic terrorism, the murder of James Stone, and a list of financial crimes that will take a decade to read."

  Jones looked at the badge, then at the Black Ghost. A slow, mocking smile spread across his face. "And what about him, Detective? Are you going to arrest the vigilante? The man who just broke forty laws to get into this room?"

  Anna didn't look away from Jones. She didn't even blink. "I don't see a vigilante, Mayor. I see a shadow caused by your corruption. And shadows disappear when the lights come on."

  Devin stepped back into the darkness near the shattered window. He watched as the troopers ratcheted steel cuffs onto Jones's wrists. The Mayor was led out, still shouting about his legacy, but the words felt hollow now—the desperate screams of a dying king.

  "Wes," Devin said quietly into his comms. "It's done."

  "Not yet, Dev," Wesley replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion and relief. "Michael Lee is still out there. He escaped the platform. He's the last piece of the RKG puzzle, and he's not going to go quietly. He's headed for the shipyard."

  Devin looked at Anna. She gave a single, imperceptible nod. She had the Mayor; she was giving him the soldier.

  "I'm on my way," Devin said.

  He turned and stepped out into the night, the gravity-control system catching him as he fell toward the street. Black Ghost 7 was already screaming around the corner, its headlights cutting through the rain.

  The architect was in chains, but the executioner was still at large.