Chapter 36: The Purge of the Syndicate
The cold white light of the presidential suite illuminated the eleven broken gunners lined up along the walnut wainscoting, their wrists bound behind their backs with heavy yellow zip ties. Beneath Ethan's polished shoe, Jaxson Briggs continued to claw uselessly at the carpet, his breath coming in ragged, b****y gasps as the pressure against his temple increased by a fraction of an inch.
"You think you are untouchable because you hired some foreign mercenaries?" Briggs spat, his voice muffled by the wool fibers pressed against his teeth. "The Black Anvil Syndicate does not die with Maintenance Shed 4, Sterling! We answer directly to Lord Hector Sterling Cross in Grandview! If I do not check in on our encrypted frequency by six o'clock this morning,
