Chapter 9 - The Tactical Breach Secures Every Corner Of The Estate
Outside in the suburban cul-de-sac, neighbors peered through closed blinds at the flashing blue and red emergency lights.
A sleek black helicopter descended silently onto the manicured lawn, kicking up blades of grass in the rotor wash.
General Thomas Vance stepped down from the cabin door onto the American lawn, his silver hair catching the amber streetlights.
He wore a tailored charcoal-grey suit, his posture straight and authoritative despite his sixty years of high-stress service.
He walked up the front steps with slow, deliberate strides, ignoring the lingering local police officers who saluted respectfully.
Pushing open the front door, he stepped into the foyer where the neatly folded US flag rested in its glass display case.
His dark, piercing eyes swept across the opulent living room, landing immediately on Mark, who was still pinned to the floor.
The silence in the house was absolute, broken only by the hum of electronic equipment carried by the tactical team.
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General Vance walked over to Mark, standing above the struggling man with an aura of terrifying, quiet calm.
“You broke my daughter’s ribs, Mark... and for that, you bought yourself a lifetime in a maximum-security cell,” the General said quietly.
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