The retreating engines sound different than the arriving ones—defeat carries a distinct acoustic signature compared to the aggressive confidence of the initial attack. I stand in the center of the destroyed great room, sides heaving with exertion, every muscle trembling with fatigue and the ebbing tide of adrenaline. Around me, furniture lies broken beyond repair, walls bear the pockmarked evidence of gunfire, and the expensive carpet that Cole takes such pride in is stained with ...