Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Brothers
The next forty-eight hours were a masterclass in asymmetrical warfare. Jack didn't attack the remaining brothers altogether; he utilized the environment, their own paranoia, and their psychological weaknesses against them.
Marcus and Julian, the intellectual twins who managed the family's real estate front companies, tried to flee the state in a private helicopter from their downtown skyscraper's rooftop helipad. But the moment the blades began to spin, the helicopter's electronic control module was completely overridden by Silas's hacking protocol. The aircraft remained locked to the pad, its doors mechanically sealed, while a concentrated chemical sleeping gas was fed into the cabin through the ventilation system. When the police finally bypassed the doors three hours later, the twins were found unconscious, zip-tied, with matching fractures in their collarbonesâthe exact injuries they had inflicted while pinning Tessa to the staircase.
Thomas and Ethan, the hot-headed enforcers who controlled the local docks, tried to barricade themselves inside a heavily fortified warehouse surrounded by fifty of their armed union loyalists.
But Jack didn't fight the crowd. He utilized a military-grade acoustic drone that emitted a high-frequency infrasound waveâa sound frequency undetectable by the human ear but capable of causing intense nausea, disorientation, and immediate panic within seconds. As the fifty guards collapsed to their knees vomiting and clutching their heads, Jack walked through the front doors wearing specialized noise-canceling tactical headgear. He neutralized Thomas and Ethan within ninety seconds, leaving them for the federal marshals with a detailed file of their illegal arms smuggling operations tied around their necks.
By Thursday evening, only one brother remained untouched: Lucas, the intellectual prodigy who handled the family's legal defenses. He hadn't left his father's side, staying deep within the central villa of the Graves Estate, which had now been turned into a virtual military bunker surrounded by over a hundred hired mercenary forces.
Harold Graves sat in his armchair, a glass of cheap whiskey in his hand, looking like a man who had already aged twenty years. The luxury mansion felt like a tomb.
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"Father, the mercenaries say the perimeter is completely secure," Lucas said, his hands shaking as he adjusted his glasses. "No one can get through the front gate. We have thermal cameras covering every square inch of the lawn."
"It doesn't matter, Lucas," Harold whispered, his eyes hollow as he looked at the family portraits on the wallâall his sons broken, captured, or ruined. "He's not a man. He's a ghost. And he's already inside the house."
