The Billionaire's secret heir
The man met Damian’s eyes through the gap and lifted a gloved hand.
“Cavendish,” he said in a voice like gravel. “You always were predictable.”
Damian’s reply was not words.
It was motion.
He lunged forward with the ferocity of a man who had been hollow and then refilled with righteous blood. The mercenary he held went down. The other pushed toward the door, and Cole slammed a strike that echoed in the tin.
But the armored vehicle wasn’t a barrier against bullets. Panels split, vents hissed—and from the belly of the machine, a drone rolled out. It was squat and fast and moved like a hunting beetle. It took the air, and then the container suddenly filled with a sound like a swarm.