The blinding yellow searchlight from the elite combat helicopter outside sliced directly through the shattered glass windows of the twentieth floor, illuminating the thick swirling dust and peeling wallpaper of the vacant office complex. Heavy night winds howled furiously through the gaps, carrying a bitter chill that did not match the suffocating heat rising inside Delon's chest. The rhythmic, deafening thrashing of the twin rotors vibrated violently through the solid concrete flooring, threatening to tear the remaining structural integrity of the upper landing apart.
Delon stumbled backward into the dim shadows of the emergency stairwell, his hands trembling as he shielded his eyes from the piercing external beam.
"The tactical blockade has achieved a complete vertical alignment," V
