THREE BLACK SUVS, IDENTICAL TO GRAYSON'S CENTURION, ROLLED TO A SYNCHRONIZED STOP.
Mailah watched from her concrete perch as the doors opened and Grayson's brothers emerged like they were being introduced in a very expensive cologne commercial.
Lucson stepped out first. He surveyed the scene with the cold calculation of a general assessing a battlefield.
Carson tumbled out next, his arrival significantly less dignified. He was wearing jeans, a leather jacket, and what appeared to be motorcycle boots. His dark hair was windswept in a way that suggested he'd been riding with the windows down, and he had a grin that looked wildly inappropriate given the circumstances.
Mason emerged from the second vehicle, silent and watchful. His eyes went immediately to the twisted helicopter, and something dark flickered across his face—recognition, perhaps, or professional interest in the nightmare fuel.
