"Repeat that, Theron," Darien growled. The sound was low, a sub-harmonic vibration that made the silver spoons on the table hum with sympathetic resonance. "You found what, exactly? Speak clearly."
On the other end of the line, the background noise was a chaotic symphony of crashing waves, the metallic groan of shipping containers, and the distant, rhythmic thumping of a heavy-duty generator at the docks. Theron's voice came through the speaker, but it lacked the frantic edge of a man under fire. In fact, he sounded remarkably casual, infuriatingly so.
"We finally got the door to the Sterlings' primary vault open at the docks. It was rigged with three separate biometric locks and a silent alarm that would have alerted half the coast if we hadn't bypassed it. I thought for sure we were looking at the weapons stash or the ritual site. I was ready to call in the tactical team and the exorcists. I was ready to burn the whole pier down."
