PREVIEW

... eadquarters wasn’t a building today.

It was a storm.

Exactly as Allen predicted.

Not lightning.

Not wind.

But a pressure in the air—thick, heavy, and sharp.

Behind closed glass doors, inside Mr. Bell’s private office, that pressure was tightening like a noose.

The windows faced the skyline, but no one cared about the view.

Mr. Bell sat behind his thick, blackened oak desk. His fingers were laced together, knuckles pale, jaw locked i ...

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