Before sunrise, unmarked cars crept along the cliffs surrounding the Carlisle estate.
Inside one, Felix sat still, heartbeat steady but coiled. A medic sat beside him, silent. His fists stayed open—by will, not ease.
The lead officer's voice crackled in his earpiece: “On my count. Three. Two. One. Go."
---
Doors burst inward.
Security scattered—some surrendered, others frozen by the sight of legal warrants and federal IDs.
Randell stood in his office, pouring coffee, when the agents arrived.
“What is this?" he demanded.
The officer didn't flinch. “Step away from the desk. You're under investigation for unlawful imprisonment, fraud, and coercion."
Randell didn't move. “You have no proof."
“We have enough to tear down this house brick by brick."
---
Downstairs, one basement door
