The cold night air now pressed down upon the Darlington estate, thick with tension and the faint scent of gun oil.
Red and blue lights still danced across the marble columns, painting the once-proud home of the Darlington family in a rhythm of dread.
The lead FBI agent, still recovering from the strange, heavy aura that had rolled off Hutton some time ago, finally gave a curt order.
"Cuff him. We're taking him back to D.C. for questioning."
A pair of federal officers stepped forward, cautiously approaching Hutton with steel cuffs glinting in their hands.
'No, I can't accept this.'
Robert Darlington's expression hardened instantly. And suddenly, he moved between them and Hutton, his arm spread out protectively.
"Hold it right there," he barked, his commanding voice halting the agents mid-step. "You can't just walk into my estate and haul off my guest like some common criminal. He's done nothing illegal on my property."
