Chapter 16 - The Art of War
For the next twenty-four hours, the estate transformed into a fortress under the cover of night. While Victor Thorne believed he held all the cards, Damian and Marcus dismantled the security grid piece by piece—not to hide from Thorne, but to rewrite the battlefield.
Every communication line was routed through a dead-man's switch connected to federal intelligence channels that Damian had quietly cultivated over his ten years of legitimizing the family's wealth. If Thorne tried to seize the estate by force, the federal raid teams would descend before the first shot echo across the stone walls.
At midnight, Damian sat in the dimly lit workshop of the garage, cleaning his carbine. The smell of gun oil and copper filled the enclosed space.
Marcus walked in, tossing a heavy encrypted tablet onto the workbench. "We intercepted a comms broadcast from Thorne’s primary vessel off the coast of Marseille. He’s moving his liquid capital into local Swiss accounts tomorrow morning at dawn. Once that transfer clears, he controls the entire syndicate's treasury."
"He won't get the chance to hit send," Damian said without looking up, his fingers moving fluidly as he reassembled the bolt carrier group.
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"What's the play, boss?"
"We don't wait for him to come to the house," Damian said, locking the slide into place with a crisp, metallic snap. "We go to him."
