Trashing My Ex with the Ice King
A few hours later, beneath the thick London fog, five pitch-black SUVs drove without headlights through a secluded road toward the Starling residence.
A massive Victorian-style mansion stood proudly, guarded by dozens of mercenaries outside its gates. However, they had no idea who they were up against. Inside one of the SUVs, Ivan, my genius hacker, let his fingers dance rapidly across his keyboard.
"Bingo. The CCTV cameras have been manipulated into a loop, and the alarm sensors are disabled, Sir," Ivan reported with a faint smirk.
"Execute," I commanded with absolute authority.
Silas and his men descended, blending seamlessly into the darkness. There was no noisy firefight. There was only
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