Chapter 22
"She's already on a private transport heading to our facility in Aspen," Jackson sneered, thumbing the safety off his pistol.
"You fought a good war, Carter, but you were playing chess against ghosts."
In a split second, Carter didn't retreat—he lunged forward across the mahogany desk with terrifying, explosive speed.
Jackson fired two suppressed shots, but Carter deflected his wrist upward, sending the bullets shattering into the ceiling plaster.
Carter drove his palm directly into Jackson's nose, disarming the trained operator in a brutal, lightning-fast strike.
He slammed Jackson onto the floor, pinning his throat beneath a heavy leather boot.
"Where in Aspen?!" Carter roared, his eyes blazing with an apocalyptic fury.
May you like
Jackson choked for air, blood pooling from his nose, but he let out a dark, sinister laugh.
"It's too late, Sterling..." Jackson wheezed out. "The Chairman is already there."
