The FBI field office materialized through morning fog like bureaucratic monument to institutional power—concrete and glass structure designed to project authority through architectural intimidation. Ral sat in passenger seat while Dmitri drove, Maya and Yuri in back seat, all silent as condemned prisoners approaching execution.
"Last chance to run," Dmitri offered without conviction. "Turn around, head for border, disappear into extraction network before federal custody makes disappearance impossible."
"No," Maya stated firmly. "We finish this. Complete what we started by accepting what we became."
The parking lot was empty except for three black SUVs positioned near entrance—federal agents waiting to take custody immediately upon arrival, preventing any possibility of escape or final r
