The Behemoth glided to a halt directly behind Thorne’s crude cruiser. Along the side of the massive black door, painted in sharp, elegant silver lettering, were the words: U.S. ATTORNEY - FEDERAL DISTRICT.
Elara effortlessly swatted Thorne’s heavy hand away from her velvet cape. The officer was too distracted to resist. She took a half-step back, her smirk widening into a display of absolute, terrifying triumph.
"Oh really?" Elara whispered smoothly, her voice slicing through the cold air. "Just call your captain first and let him explain."
Thorne slowly turned his thick neck. His eyes landed on the massive black vehicle parked in the driveway. The aggressive, violent energy drained out of his body so fast his knees physically buckled.
"What the hell is that?" Thorne muttered, his voice trembling, the abrasive bark replaced by the terrified whisper of a cornered prey.
Two men stepped out of the vintage black car. They wore immaculate, tailored black suits, moving with the terrifying, synchronized precision of elite federal security detail. They did not shout. They simply stood at the base of the driveway, their eyes locked on the local officer who had just laid his hands on their supreme commander.
Thorne’s radio, clipped to his heavy leather coat, suddenly erupted with frantic static. It was the voice of his precinct Captain, screaming over the encrypted channel, his voice pitched high with absolute, career-ending panic.