Chapter 3: The Snapping Trap
Arthur laughed, a loud, grating sound. He stepped toward Elias, feeling the thrill of dominance. He wanted the old man to swing—to give him an excuse to have his guards beat the man into a pulp. "Come on, then! Do something! Or is that all the rage you have? A gold watch and some dusty shoes?"
He reached out, intending to grab Elias by the lapel, but his hand stopped mid-air.
The heavy, soundproofed doors of the penthouse burst open. There was no explosion, no shouting—just the sudden, overwhelming presence of a six-man tactical unit that seemed to materialize from the shadows of the foyer. They moved with a fluidity that made them look like a single organism.
Arthur stumbled back, his martini glass falling to the floor and shattering. "Who the hell are you? Security! Get in here!"
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No one answered. His security was silent, intercepted and neutralized in the elevator lobby before they even knew the game had started.
Elias walked toward him. He didn't rush. He moved with the terrifying, inevitable momentum of a landslide. He picked up his watch from the counter and snapped it back onto his wrist, the display now showing a green light.
