O Justiceiro Serie Today

Frank’s face didn't change. There was no anger. No rage. That was for the battlefield. This was something colder. A funeral dirge played on a single, repeating note.

Rizzo's face went white. "Please. Please, I have a family." o justiceiro serie

Not a sprint. A flow. A shadow detaching from the darkness. He crossed the alley in three silent strides. Rizzo never heard the wet thud of boots on asphalt. He only felt the cold, hard circle of a suppressor press against the soft hollow behind his ear. Frank’s face didn't change

The rain intensified, drumming a war cadence on the roof. Frank adjusted the strap of his plate carrier. Under his jacket, the skull was hidden—he preferred it that way. The skull wasn't for intimidation. It was a promise to the dead. That was for the battlefield

The last three tried to run. They didn't make it to the door.

That’s when Frank moved.