"You look surprisingly convincing as a man who hasn't just discovered his entire life was a lie," Mercer observed, watching Atlas adjust his James Reed prosthetic mask in the mirror.
Dawn had broken over the Finnegan estate. The wedding preparations proceeded with frantic energy, oblivious to the storm gathering within the mansion's walls.
Atlas's fingers traced the edges of his false face, ensuring the seams were invisible. "I've had five years to practice deception."
"And a lifetime to master pain," Mercer added, checking his weapon discreetly.
"Federal teams are in position. They'll move on my signal during the vows."
Atlas turned from the mirror. "And Westfield?"
"RSVP'd personally. Front row, left side. His security detail has already swept the chapel."
A sharp knock interrupt
