----Axhel Rhodes POV----
Axhel Rhodes, pale and sweating, was struggling to have his tuxedo jacket fitted by a nervous aide. Bandages still heavily encased his torso, restricting his movements to agonizing, slow shifts. The recent surgeries had left him weak, but the humiliation burned hotter than any infection.
A trusted subordinate, Agent R1, entered the room and stood at attention.
"Report, R1," Axhel managed, his voice strained.
"Sir, I have confirmed intelligence," R1 said, keeping his voice low. "Blake is here."
Axhel froze, then let out a guttural curse. "That son of a bitch! Where? How did he get past the perimeter?"
"He entered with Congressman Thompson, sir," R1 reported.
"That lying piece of political filth!" Axhel roared, driving his fist into a nearby Ming vase. The pottery shattered, and the abrupt, violent movement tore at his healing wounds.
"Agh!" Axhel cried out as blood instantly bloomed through the freshly changed bandages on his chest.
