The helicopter cut through the darkening sky like a blade, followed by two more. Inside the lead aircraft, Corbin Ashworth's face remained impassive, but his eyes burned with cold fury.
"ETA five minutes, sir," the pilot announced.
I could feel the tension radiating from the man beside me. As head of Corbin's security detail, I'd seen him angry before—but never like this. This wasn't anger; this was wrath incarnate.
"Island authorities are requesting identification and landing permission," the communications officer reported.
Corbin didn't even glance up. "Decline."
"Sir, they're threatening to scramble security forces if we—"
"Let them try," Corbin cut him off, his voice like ice. "Anyone who stands between me and my father will be removed."
The men around me exchanged glances. We all understood what "removed" meant.
