Chapter 30
“The trap is not made of steel or stone; it is made of the thing you cannot bear to lose.” — Unknown The night air was no longer still; it was a screaming vortex. The downdraft from the heavy-lift helicopter whipped the stagnant water of the swimming pool into a frenzied spray, the emerald surface fracturing under the glare of a million-candlepower searchlight. "They are coming by the heavens," Cassius hissed, his voice nearly drowned out by the rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum of the blades. Above, the cabin doors slid open. Thick, braided fast-ropes tumbled down like black serpents, uncoiling through the air. Figures in matte-black tactical gear—the Brotherhood’s elite retrieval unit—descended with terrifying, mechanical precision. They didn't land like men; they landed like iron weights
- Writer
