The city of Aston was always awake.

Even at midnight, sirens wailed in the distance, blinding lights flashed on glass skyscrapers, and the rumble of cars never ceased. But to Elias Vance, none of it mattered.

Not tonight.

His apartment was a dim room that faced the city. It was plain and contained no unnecessary items scattered about. There were a few photographs on the wall: one of him when he was younger, standing with his ASPD unit, and they were proud. Another, older photograph was of a woman with a faint but genuine smile. The corners of this photograph were worn, as if it had been handled too many times.

Elias pulled on a black T-shirt over his wide shoulders, his long silvery hair sweeping loosely down the middle of his back. He brushed it out with his fingers, exhaling hard as he scowled into the mirror in the bathroom.

Blue eyes, piercing. A look that had witnessed much.

The knuckle scars and the tension in his jaw indicated that he was a man who had been in danger for far too long.

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ASPD's Special Response Unit was not for the faint of heart. They were not the ones writing parking tickets. They were the ones who entered first when things got ugly—the last to leave when the smoke had cleared.

Elias had stood for longer than most.

His phone was vibrating on the table.

He grabbed it and read the name that was being displayed on the screen. Captain Ross.

"Vance, get back to HQ. Now."

Elias furrowed his eyebrows. "I just finished a shift. What is it?"

Ross replied curtly, with tension in each sentence. "We've got a problem. The Grand Hotel of Midnight has been overrun."

Elias's spine stiffened. "Hostages?"

"Hundreds."

He gripped the phone harder.

"I'm on my way." He grabbed his ASPD jacket and threw it over his shoulders in a hurry. He already had ideas of what was to come.

A Hijack in the heart of a city? It was no small-time operation.

The individual who did that wasn't just stating something. They were communicating a message.

Elias was ready to give one back.