The war had paused—but only just.
For once, the skies above the MOA Complex weren't filled with the roar of gunships or the howl of incoming threats. Instead, there was a strange, temporary stillness, like the world had taken a breath along with its exhausted defenders. And Thomas had decided, just for tonight, to stop moving.
He walked alone down the corridor of the Conrad Hotel, where he had kept its luxurious interiors and plush surroundings. This was his home after all, like a White House with him as its president.
When Thomas reached the double doors that led to the rooftop pool, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The pool area was nearly deserted. A single guard stood off to the side, seated with his rifle resting against the chair's arm, clearly on relaxed rotation. He gave a small nod of recognition but said nothing as Thomas passed.
