Chapter 7 - The Ghost of the North CoastThe Moretti estate in coastal Maine was a fortress carved directly into the jagged granite cliffs overlooking the roaring Atlantic Ocean. Waves crashed violently against the rocks below, sending up plumes of white spray that coated the iron gates in a thin layer of salt ice.
Adrian’s helicopter touched down on the private helipad behind the estate at midnight, cutting its rotors against the gale-force winds.
Lucas Benton and a dozen elite tactical enforcers piled out of the cabin, their assault rifles raised against the howling dark.
"Thermal imaging shows three targets in the main drawing room on the second floor," Lucas shouted over the roar of the wind, handing Adrian a tactical tablet. "Dante Moretti, two guards, and... Elena."
Adrian stared at the glowing thermal silhouette of Elena sitting in a chair near the grand stone fireplace.
"Are they harming her?" Adrian asked, his voice shaking with a terrifying, suppressed rage.
"Negative, boss. She’s unbound. They’re... talking."
That detail made Adrian’s stomach churn. Why wasn't she tied up? Why wasn't Dante holding a gun to her head?
A dark, terrifying thought crept into the back of his mind—a thought he immediately tried to crush, but which refused to die.
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Was Elena really innocent? Or was the framing deeper than he ever imagined?
"We breach in thirty seconds," Adrian ordered, his face a mask of stone. "If anyone touches her, kill them before they hit the floor."
