The morning sun rose sharp and clear over the Maine headland, reflecting off the calm blue expanse of the ocean. At ten o'clock, Damian escorted Maya down the spiral stone stairs of the northern tower into the fortress's secure tactical operations center. The operations room was an impressive, subterranean nerve center of high-definition digital monitors, encrypted satellite uplinks, and biometric server racks. Julian Thorne—Damian's second-in-command, a lean, thirty-five-year-old former intelligence…
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