The "fortress" was a brutalist structure of concrete and glass, carved directly into the side of a cliff overlooking the Atlantic.
The waves below were violent, crashing against the jagged rocks with a sound like thunder.
It was a cold, lonely place, miles away from civilization.
As we entered through the heavy steel gates, a dozen guards in tactical gear stood at attention.
They didn't look like the household staff at the mansion; these were soldiers.
Ryker led me inside, his hand heavy on the small of my back.
The interior was minimalist…all grey stone, black leather, and high-tech monitors. It felt less like a home and more like a command centre.
"Luca!" Ryker called out.
The man from the mansion…the one who had always looked at me with a mix of pity and suspicion emerged from
