Chapter Four
The billboards across New York flickered.
Moments earlier they had been filled with advertisements—perfume, watches, political campaigns, luxury brands—but now every screen shifted at once. Times Square dimmed. Traffic slowed. Pedestrians stopped mid-step, heads lifting toward the towering displays.
On the screens, Dominic Borden appeared—the helicopter, the chaos, the attempt to escape.
Then the image fractured.
Static tore across the city.
And in its place stood a silhouette.
A man dressed entirely in black.
His face unseen.
His presence unmistakable.
A deep voice rolled out over the speakers, smooth and steady.
"Ladies and gentlemen… throughout the years, we have fought. We have defended. We have revealed. We have solved many crimes the world chose not to see. But today… is our final act. Today is the final act of the Horseman."
The display split.
Four sections appeared.
On the far left, a young man in casual clothes sat calmly in a chair, a laptop open before him.
On the far right, a man stood in formal business attire, posture straight, composed.
Another figure stood drenched in blood, his entire body covered except for his eyes, which stared forward without emotion.
And beside them—one final silhouette. A young man's shape marked only by a question mark over his face.
The voice continued.
"For years, the Horsemen have been known as four. But no one has ever discovered who the fourth truly was. Ladies and gentlemen… allow me to introduce the fourth Horseman. Dominic Cross."
The question mark dissolved.
Dominic's face appeared.
A wave of sound erupted across the streets. People shouted. Some cheered. Some stood frozen.
The moment the word Horseman had been spoken, most had already connected the dots.
All except Sam.
Then the voice shifted.
It became Dominic's.
He stepped forward slightly, eyes steady.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you believed the Horsemen were four separate people. Four individuals. But what if I told you… the first Horseman was never four?"
The city quieted.
"The Horsemen began eight years ago. Not five. Eight. The day I was caught stealing."
He did not look away.
"When I was caught, I felt inferior. I felt something inside me change. I asked myself—why was I caught? And I decided I would never be caught again. I learned every technique. Every method to hide. Every way to act. Every way to disappear. I became the perfect thief."
His voice did not tremble.
"One day, I saw a group of rich young men bullying a poor family of three. I decided to help them retrieve what was stolen. That night, I followed those boys. I discovered they belonged to the Cruz family."
At the mention of the name, many watching felt an old discomfort rise within them.
"I stole the money back and returned it to the poor family."
For a moment, it almost sounded like a simple story.
"But the next day, the father was arrested for theft. Despite evidence proving his innocence, he was sentenced to prison. Two days later, he was stabbed to death."
Silence spread like a shadow.
"The child was kidnapped and sold into trafficking. The mother was taken by the Cruz family and used for their pleasure."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"It was my interference that accelerated their suffering. So I decided to uncover everything."
He spoke of hiring a hacker—someone more skilled than he had been at the time—to dig through records, trace payments, expose hidden channels. Through that help, he learned how the father had been framed, how the prison murder had been ordered, how the child had been sold, how the mother had been enslaved.
"I exposed their crimes, expecting justice to follow."
The Cruz family was arrested.
For a week, it seemed the world had worked.
Then the charges disappeared.
Bribes erased every accusation.
"They walked free," Dominic said quietly. "Money had protected them."
He paused.
"So I decided to fight wealth with wealth."
He built a new identity. A businessman. He accumulated capital, built connections, created channels of his own.
He bought the child back from trafficking and gave him a better life.
He infiltrated the Cruz estate and rescued the mother. But the damage had already gone too deep. Placed in safety, she took her own life soon after.
Dominic's expression did not change, but something behind his eyes dimmed.
"I thought money would be enough. It wasn't."
The Cruz family escaped through their underworld connections yet again.
Three days later, Dominic survived an assassination attempt.
Ordered by them.
"That was when I understood," he said. "If justice cannot be delivered through normal means… then I will deliver it myself."
He created the final role.
The assassin.
The man who would later be known as Reaper.
The Cruz family was eliminated.
Their crimes were exposed to the world. The evidence was taken down quickly, but not before millions had seen it.
"That," Dominic said, "was the birth of the Horseman."
Two years later, he carried out his first grand heist, exposing the truth about a corrupt president before assassinating him. The name Horsemen spread across nations. Admiration and fear grew together.
"And then," he continued, "two years ago, I was diagnosed with an illness never seen before. An illness that will take my life."
He did not dramatize it.
"Medication has delayed it. But the end was always near."
The screens shifted again.
Four young figures stood behind him.
"So I built the next era."
He gestured to the first.
"The Sword. Reaper. Wrath."
A young man stepped forward, his body covered in dark cloth, a dagger in his hand, a sword at his back. A mask concealed his face, marked with a single horse head at the top.
He gestured to the second.
"The Brain. Hacker. The Sloth."
A red-haired young man in casual clothing stepped forward, a mask hiding his expression.
"And the third," Dominic continued, "the Wealth. Midas. The Greed."
A woman stepped forward, black hair flowing down her back. Even through the screen, her presence drew attention. Many men swallowed unconsciously, struck by the beauty of her figure alone.
Dominic raised his voice slightly.
"Do not mistake us for saints. We are not heroes. We are people tired of a corrupt world. Do not expect us to serve selfish desires."
Then he looked forward once more.
"And finally… my daughter."
The air itself seemed to tighten.
"The Head. The Queen. The Pride."
She stepped into view.
Even the smallest movement of her hand outclassed the others. She was striking, unreal, almost as if sculpted rather than born. Some watching wondered whether such a person could exist naturally at all.
She wore the Horseman mask—but hers was different. Intricate lines carved across its surface. And at the top, instead of one horse head, there were three.
She stood before them, calm.
"She is the official leader of the Horsemen," Dominic said. "But understand this—the Horsemen is no longer just four. We have built connections across the world. We have trained warriors. Entrepreneurs. Fighters. Thinkers. The Horsemen is a network."
His voice deepened.
"Do not think that when I am gone, the Horsemen will fall."
The four stood together.
And as Dominic prepared to speak the final words, all of them said it in unison.
"The Horsemen will be watching."
The screens went black.
Across cities, across nations, applause erupted. Middle-income families, workers, students—voices rose together.
"Horsemen! Horsemen! Horsemen!"
But beneath an ordinary house in New York, far from the noise above, a hidden world thrived.
Beyond layered security checkpoints and reinforced doors, an underground base stretched wide and alive with activity. People of different ages worked, trained, studied.
At the final checkpoint, the heavy door opened.
Dominic stepped inside.
The four young figures removed their masks and smiled at him. He smiled back.
He approached his daughter first and placed his hand gently on her head.
Then his smile faltered.
Blood slipped from the corner of his mouth.
He dropped to one knee.
All four rushed to support him.
He looked at them, eyes soft.
"I'm proud of all of you," he said quietly. "Continue my legacy… but do not try to be me. Be the first of yourselves. Do not be afraid. Be cautious."
Tears streamed down his daughter's face.
"Father… please don't leave."
He gave a small smile.
"I'm not leaving. I will always be with you. Anyone who carries the Horseman carries me."
He looked at her with something close to regret.
"I'm sorry I placed this burden on you. You never had a normal childhood."
Then he turned to the others.
"I'm sorry you didn't either."
They bowed deeply.
"No, Leader," they said. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be treated like humans. You made us strong. You gave us family."
His daughter wiped her tears.
"I used to resent it," she whispered. "But after seeing the cruelty of this world… I thank you. If you hadn't trained me, I would have been weak. I do have fun. I have a family no one else in this world could ever have."
She looked around at the children training, studying, laughing quietly in distant rooms.
"One day," she said softly, "wherever you go… I'll find you. And maybe we can play again. Like we used to."
Dominic gave one final smile.
Then he closed his eyes.
His last breath left him quietly.
Christine clung to him as if holding him could stop the inevitable. Around them, the others began to cry. Even those who had been working paused, grief spreading through the underground halls.
Above them, rain began to fall over New York.
As if the world itself had acknowledged the loss of something extraordinary.