The black van crested the final ridge of the coastal cliffs, and for a moment, the world felt as though it had dropped away. Nestled in a jagged ravine overlooking the churning grey Atlantic stood the Sanctuary.
It wasn't a house; it was a monolith. Built from dark, weathered stone and reinforced steel, the estate seemed to grow directly out of the cliffside. High, windowless walls surrounded the perimeter, topped with subtle but lethal electric fencing. Security cameras with thermal lenses swiveled silently, tracking our approach like the eyes of a predator. As the massive iron gates hissed open, the headlights swept across a courtyard paved in cold slate, where men in tactical and military gear stood like statues in the mist.
