Chapter 125

• Night had fallen, but no one in the camp was asleep.
• From the window of the private lodge we’d converted into our temporary headquarters, I watched them Westhaven Group’s elite security detail and senior executives moving like shadows across the mountain slope, descending in synchronized lines of black SUVs and tactical precision. No headlights. Just rows of pinprick lapel lights marking their path every ten paces.
• They were efficient. Expensive. Trained. I recognized Westhaven’s signature from a mile away nothing they did was cheap or careless. Even their descent from the icy summit was choreographed, their grip boots clearly custom-made for winter terrain.