Right now in Central City, snow fell endlessly all over, it even drifted quietly through the pine trees at the outskirts of the city.
And far beyond the lights of Central City, where the roads narrowed into frozen mountain trails, a solitary cabin stood buried in darkness.
But it was no retreat.
Armed men patrolled the perimeter in rotating pairs. Thermal cameras swept the woods. Black SUVs sat hidden beneath camouflage netting. Motion sensors lined the outer path.
No one reached this place by accident.
Inside, the cabin glowed with firelight and tension.
The Viper stood near a stone fireplace, one hand braced against the mantle, the other gripping a crystal tumbler so tightly the glass threatened to crack.
His tailored coat had been thrown aside.
The calm, polished businessman mask was gone.
What remained was the man underneath.
Dangerous.
Cold.
And furious.
He turned sharply toward the large monitor mounted across the room.
On it, only a silhouette could be seen.
