The helicopter crashed at dawn.
I stood at the edge of the crater, staring at the twisted wreckage. The flames were still burning, casting orange shadows across the snow. Elena was beside me, her face pale, her hands trembling.
"Are you sure it was him?" she asked.
I nodded slowly. "I saw him. He was in the cockpit. He didn't try to escape."
"Why would he do that? Why would he crash the helicopter?"
I was silent for a long moment. Then I said, "Because he wanted to send a message."
I walked toward the wreckage, my boots crunching in the snow. The cockpit was crushed, the windows shattered. But the body was still there. Marcus Webb. My father.
I knelt beside him. His eyes were open, staring at the sky. There was a smile on his face. A peaceful smile.
"Marcus," I said. "Why? Why did
