The biting wind of the Swiss Alps whipped violently across the helipad of Mansion Thorne. Clara stood on the observation deck, wrapping her heavy cashmere coat tighter around her shoulders as the distant hum of approaching jet engines tore through the serene mountain silence.
Beside her, Ares stood perfectly still, his dark eyes locked on the gray horizon. He wore a fitted tactical sweater and dark cargo pants, the picture of a commander awaiting his troops.
"Is this the transport taking us to the Capital?" Clara asked, raising her voice over the escalating roar.
"No," Ares replied, not taking his eyes off the sky. "This is our advance intelligence unit. I requested a full briefing on the Capital's current defense grids before we step foot inside the city."
"Elias couldn't handle that?
