The men who brought war to Eric Crown's doorstep had no idea what kind of storm they were walking into.
Night had draped itself over the estate like a black Blackett. Three black SUVs sat idling half a street away, their engines a low growl in the dark. Men inside watched. Waited. Fingers resting on triggers. They thought they had time.
They were wrong.
The first shot cracked the silence. Then another. And another.
From rooftops. From behind hedges. From shadows they never checked.
Eric Crown's men moved like ghosts. One by one, the SUVs were swallowed by gunfire.
Bodies dropped silently before they even understood they were under attack.
The last SUV roared to life. The driver slammed the gas, tires screeching as he tried to escape. He made it 50 meters.
A single shot punched through the rear window and into his skull.
