Simon toasted the air with his glass, feeling like the king of his own private mountain. Suddenly, the power to the entire estate vanished, plunging the valley into a thick, unnatural darkness.
The outdoor speakers died mid-note, and a heavy silence settled over the manicured lawns. Then, the sound of glass shattering like rhythmic gunfire erupted from every side of the house simultaneously.
Panic surged through the guests as red laser dots began to dance across their expensive clothes.
“What is this?” Simon yelled, his voice cracking as he stumbled back toward the house.
Sheriff Henderson reached for his sidearm, but a shadow dropped from the roof with the speed of a strike. A heavy boot connected with the Sheriff’s jaw, sending him spiraling into the pool with a splash.
Four men in matte-black tactical gear moved through the house with the silence of ghosts. They didn’t fire a shot, but their presence was more terrifying than a platoon of infantry.
The guests were moved to the garden and told to sit with their hands on their heads. Simon was found cowering in his office, trying to open a hidden safe.
He was dragged by his collar into the living room and forced onto his knees on the very rug where Callie had bled. A tactical tablet was placed on the coffee table in front of him, and the screen flickered to life.
My face appeared on the monitor, framed by the sterile white walls of the clinic where Callie was being prepped for surgery.
“Arthur, stop this right now!” Simon screamed, his bravado replaced by a high-pitched whine. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life in a hole for this!”
“Look at the screen, Simon,” I said, my voice coming through the speakers with a deadly clarity.
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