Adrian moves through the entrance hall unhurriedly, his men fanning out behind him with the casual confidence of people who believe grief has left this house wide open.I watch it all from the surveillance room, my stomach in knots, my father silent beside me with his jaw locked tight.Then one of Adrian’s men stops near a hallway camera, tilting his head at it.The camera turns.On screen, Adrian goes still, and I watch understanding move across his face a half second before he looks straight up into the lens, straight at us, and smiles. He shakes his head slightly, almost admiring, and lifts a phone to his mouth, saying something we can’t hear.“He knows,” I breathe.Outside, headlights sweep across the gates as the funeral convoy returns, but it isn’t carrying grieving relatives in suits. A dozen black SUVs roll up the driveway, tearing across the manicured lawn to form a tight, armored circle around the mansion.Our men pour out of the vehicles with their weapons raised, comple
Read more
LOGIN
