The engine whine of the disabled Gulfstream slowly wound down into a dying, metallic hiss that was swallowed by the sound of rain drumming against the cavernous steel roof of Hangar 4. White smoke from the breaching charges drifted through the halogen searchlights, casting long, dramatic shadows across the concrete floor where the six disarmed mercenaries lay zip-tied and subdued under the watchful carbines of twenty Santoro operators. Nico hauled…
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