Chapter 16
The Sutton compound was completely isolated, cut off from any political or legal rescue. The bright morning sun illuminated the terrifying reality of their situation. Dozens of black SUVs bearing the Roswell insignia had formed an impenetrable blockade around the perimeter. Heavily armed men in professional suits stood silently, their weapons lowered but ready.
Inside the compound, panic reigned supreme.
"We fight them!" Sutton's oldest son yelled, drawing a handgun. "We have twenty private security guards! We can hold them off until we negotiate a surrender!"
"Negotiate?" Brielle laughed, a hysterical, broken sound. "Damon Roswell doesn't negotiate. He eradicates."
The security chief looked at the judge. "Sir, my men are professionals, but we are vastly outnumbered and outgunned. If we engage, we will be slaughtered. The Roswell lieutenants sent a message. They said if we open the gates and surrender you, they will spare the rest of the family and the staff."
Sutton stared at his security chief, realizing the absolute finality of his defeat. His political empire was gone. His legacy was destroyed. He had tried to play God with a man who ruled hell.
"Open the gates," Sutton whispered, his voice cracking with sheer, unadulterated terror.
"No! Dad, you can't!" his sons protested.
"Do it!" Sutton barked, standing up with trembling legs. "If we fight, he will kill all of us. Brielle included."
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The massive iron gates of the Sutton compound slowly hummed open. The Roswell operatives did not rush in with guns blazing. They moved with terrifying, disciplined precision, forming a heavily armed corridor leading directly to the front doors of the mansion.
Damon Roswell stepped out of a black SUV, his tailored suit immaculate, the heavy gold signet ring gleaming in the sunlight. He walked slowly, purposefully, up the long driveway, exuding the absolute, unyielding dominance of a king claiming his conquered territory.
