The Architect burst into his office, a lavish room paneled in dark wood with a wall of glass looking out over the grounds. He lunged for a hidden safe, fingers shaking as he punched in the code.
Inside were cash, diamonds, and the one thing he thought might still save him—a passport under another name. If he could reach the hidden passage behind the fireplace, he might still get out. “Hold that door!” he shouted at his armed guards.
At that exact moment, the heavy office door shuddered under the first impact from outside.
The bodyguards took positions behind the desk and aimed at the entrance. Outside, Warren’s team was already setting up for the final breach. “Door’s reinforced,” the team breacher said. “Ram will take too long. Need charges.”
“Do it,” Warren said. “Keep it controlled.” The breacher slapped explosive onto the hinges and lock, set the detonators, and the team pulled back around the corner.
The blast hit hard enough to shake dust from the ceiling. The door flew inward and flattened one of the guards. Through the cloud of debris, the operators stormed the office.
The remaining bodyguards fired wildly, but the blast had rattled them. The team answered with two short, precise bursts. Both men dropped behind the overturned desk.
Cerberus, though, was tougher than the rest. He took cover behind a column near the window and laid down enough fire to keep heads down. “Give it up!” Stone shouted from cover. “There’s nowhere left to go!”
Cerberus kept shooting. Warren signaled to one of his marksmen. The operator rolled out from cover a split second ahead of the next burst.
One quiet shot from a suppressed rifle ended the fight. Cerberus cried out and collapsed, his weapon skidding away. Silence settled over the wrecked office, broken only by his groans and the crunch of glass under boots.
Warren rose carefully, rifle up, and scanned the room. Downed guards. Broken furniture. Shattered antiques. But no Architect. He was gone…
