The assault helicopter cut through the night air, its engine a relentless, deafening pulse that rattled the fillings in my teeth. I was fully geared—Kevlar, suppressed primary, and a cold, absolute certainty in my eyes. Paros was directly ahead, a dark, mountainous silhouette waiting to swallow us whole.
My eyes were glued to the tablet fixed to the bulkhead. It showed only a blank space where Ivan’s encrypted locator beacon should have been pulsing. Three hours ago, I had ordered my most cautious, least violent lieutenant to do the unthinkable: a solo, cold-breach reconnaissance of the deepest level of the Paros villa’s secondary structure. Domenico’s men had secured the main perimeter, but they couldn't risk the noise of breaching the sub-levels. The entire plan hinged on confirming if
