“We are the Monroes,” she said, her chin trembling. “We built this city. You are nothing without our name.”

“My name is Colonel Vance’s lead investigator,” I said. “And the Monroe name ends tonight.”

Patricia looked at me, her eyes filled with cold hatred, before the agents led her down the stone steps.

She was guided into the back of the first transport van.

The door slammed shut with a heavy, metallic thud.

A moment later, Grant and Arthur were led down the driveway by the tactical team.

Grant looked at me as he passed, but he did not speak.

His eyes were hollow, his face pale under the flashing emergency lights.

They were loaded into the second van.

General Vance stood near the front fender of his command vehicle, a dark sedan with military plates.

An aide held a black umbrella over his head, but the General’s service cap was already spotted with rain.

He watched the transport doors lock, his hands clasped behind his back.

I walked over to him and stood at attention.