Red Justice: Cain Taggert

There are men you send in when diplomacy fails. Cain Taggert comes after them.
The world doesn't end with fire. It ends with silence—the kind that falls over a compound five minutes after midnight, just before the first throat is slit.
Cain Taggert doesn't wear a uniform. He doesn't salute flags. He doesn't believe in countries anymore.
He believes in balance.
And blood.
There's a rhythm to what he does. Like jazz played with a bone saw. Quiet entry, clean exits, bodies left like punctuation.
He ...