Campbell Estate – War Room
The holographic display flickered ominously, casting jagged shadows across the reinforced glass walls of the Campbell family's private sanctum.
Kingston Campbell paced like a caged wolf, his tailored suit straining against his broad shoulders as he clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration.
Before him, footage of three Consortium safehouses burned silently, their destruction marked by pulsing red dots on a sprawling city map.
"She's gone rogue," Kingston snarled, slamming his palm against the table.
The impact sent ripples through the hologram, distorting the chaos momentarily.
"Raven cut communications, abandoned her extraction team, and vanished into the goddamn sewers like a rat."
Across the war table, Alistair Campbell remained as still as stone. At sixty-two, the patriarch of the Campbell dynasty exuded a weary grace reminiscent of a retired warlord.
