Time flowed endlessly through the night.
The entire hotel seemed to fall into silence.
Only on the top floor,
Alex Cross could see clearly through the surveillance feeds—
Duggan, like a phantom living within the darkness of the fourth floor,
was endlessly reaping the lives of his enemies.
Seven…
Six…
When only two High Table Enforcers remained on the fourth floor…
The High Table's next wave of Enforcer squads arrived.
Two buses.
Sixty Enforcers.
Ten full squads.
As with the previous two waves,
their arrival came 30–45 minutes apart.
It was obvious—
the High Table had carefully calculated this timing,
believing it to be optimal.
What they never expected was that Alex had not only anticipated their plan,
but, with his outstanding tactical command,
had already led his forces to completely annihilate the second wave.
Now,
throughout the entire building,
only two High Table Enforcers remained alive.
At Duggan's level,
eliminating them wouldn't take even three minutes.
Meanwhile—
the 60 fresh Enforcers now had to face five apex killers.
Evenly divided,
that meant each assassin only needed to take down twelve enemies.
As always,
the new squads saw the charred wreckage of buses,
the mountain of corpses piled before the hotel entrance.
They looked at the shattered doors of the Lighthouse Hotel,
and a chill spread through their hearts.
Finally, after a brief moment of mental preparation—
the third wave of Enforcer squads marched into their grave.
They passed through the ruined entrance,
moved into the stairwell.
The lead squads advanced unopposed,
no resistance in sight.
But when the last three squads followed,
a sound stirred from behind the front desk on the first floor.
Those at the back turned their heads—
and all they saw were two grenades flying toward them,
and Anna crouched beneath the counter.
"Grenades!!"
one Enforcer shouted, diving aside.
BOOM!
BOOM!!
Two explosions ripped through the packed hallway.
Shrapnel tore violently through several bodies.
Tiles shattered,
debris scattered,
smoke filled the air.
Even before they'd reached the stairs,
an entire squad was devastated—
three dead, two critically injured, combat ineffective.
From six… down to one.
Anna rose from behind the counter,
her hands gripping a SIG-Sauer MPX Carbine.
With its 42-round extended magazine,
she unleashed a storm of bullets.
Ratatatatata!!
The dense rain of gunfire shredded the already reeling Enforcers.
Two had their spines severed.
The wounded were finished off instantly.
Another collapsed with a bullet through the leg.
Within just five minutes of entering the hotel,
the three trailing squads had already lost half their number.
Anna didn't charge in further.
Instead, she pulled back swiftly, disappearing into cover.
The remaining eight Enforcers from the back squads howled with rage—
just as another scene unfolded in the stairwell.
From the basement level,
Fox emerged quietly,
her footsteps light and silent.
Catching up to the squads ascending to the second floor,
she raised her compact TITR-9 automatic carbine.
Adrenaline surged.
Her heartbeat spiked.
Her perception slowed to a crawl—
every movement of the Enforcers on the stairs stretched into slow motion.
Ratatatatatata!!
Fox pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Bullets drilled cleanly through the necks of four men ahead.
As her "Adrenaline Burst" ended,
her gunfire didn't.
Step by step she advanced up the stairs,
cutting down two more who tumbled backward,
rolling down in bloody heaps.
Now the stairwell's seven remaining squads…
were down to six.
The survivors spun around in shock,
turning their fire on Fox.
But on the second floor landing,
John Wick and Caine appeared—
rested, calm, weapons in hand.
Bang-bang! Bang-bang!
John, wielding the Lighthouse-issued Coharie CA-415 assault rifle,
delivered rapid twin bursts,
dropping the distracted Enforcers one by one.
Beside him,
Caine's Kel-Tec KSG shotgun roared.
BOOM!
Ch-chk.
BOOM!!
In seconds, five more Enforcers fell.
Thus, within ten minutes of entering the Lighthouse Hotel,
the third wave of ten squads had already been cut to less than half strength.
Divide.
Flank.
Encircle.
This was the tactical doctrine Alex had devised even before activating the [Emergency Squad Emblem].
Low consumption.
Fast execution.
It was the kind of combat doctrine elite special forces relied upon.
And if you added Duggan—
a top-tier sniper—
the firepower was equivalent to legendary teams like the A-Team or the Expendables.
Even as it stood now,
this was more than enough to systematically obliterate the High Table's squads.
And so,
instead of worrying about the downstairs battle,
Alex's mind turned to a greater question:
Would the High Table continue to send its squads one wave at a time,
feeding them to the slaughter?
Or—
would they gamble everything,
and unleash the last of their forces in one decisive strike,
hoping the Lighthouse Hotel could no longer field its ten unstoppable "killing machines"?