The helicopter cut through the night with a low, relentless thrum, its blades slicing the darkness as the Farm Mansion slowly came into view below.
From above, the estate looked the same.
Wide fields.
Structured symmetry.
Controlled silence.
But Santiago noticed it immediately.
The lights. Too many of them. Security lines drawn tighter than usual. Patrol routes doubled. Shadows moving where there should have been stillness.
Before the helicopter had fully settled on the strip, something inside him sharpened.
This was not routine.
This was a reaction.
The moment the skids touched earth, he was already moving. The door opened. Cold air rushed in. Santiago stepped out without waiting. No greeting. No acknowledgment. Only motion.
The guards stationed at the airstrip straightened instantly, but none spoke. They didn't need to. The tension in their posture said enough.
Something had happened.
