The explosion didn't come from the Norton.
Instead of a fireball, a deafening, metallic thud vibrated through the ground, followed by the high-pitched hiss of pressurized gas. The center of the scorched lot—the very ground beneath the black SUV and the Wraiths—began to collapse. It wasn't a cave-in; it was a controlled descent. A massive, circular section of the asphalt lowered like a freight elevator, revealing a hidden subterranean level that the fire hadn't touched.
Reaper hadn't triggered a bomb. He had triggered the Ghost Wolf Silo.
"What is this?" Dax demanded, his hand tightening on my arm as we stood at the lip of the descending platform.
The lawyer’s professional mask finally slipped, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated awe. "The foundation," he whispered. "Marcus didn't
