Chapter 22 - THE TRAP IS SET
Damon used the secure satellite phone to plant a digital breadcrumb on the dark web, signaling an active account recovery.
If the shadow trust wanted their money back, they would have to come looking for it right here in the mountains.
They waited for forty-eight hours, the tension in the cabin thick enough to cut with a tactical knife.
On the third night, the crunch of tires on snow echoed up the winding driveway through the freezing dark.
Damon turned off all the lights inside the cabin, gesturing for Laura to stay upstairs with the sleeping boys.
He gripped his hunting rifle, positioning himself near the front window with absolute, tactical precision.
A single black SUV parked near the porch, and two men in heavy tactical gear stepped out into the snow.
They moved toward the front door with professional, military-grade efficiency, drawing suppressed sidearms.
May you like
Damon didn't wait for them to knock; he fired a warning shot into the snow right in front of their boots.
"Drop your weapons! Federal marshals are already en route!" Damon shouted into the freezing night air.
