Chapter Two Hundred and Five
Khalid’s POV
The morning sun over the Gulf did not bring warmth; it only brought a harsh, blinding glare that cut through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the Al-Mansour ancestral estate. The air conditioning hummed silently, keeping the massive main atrium at a freezing temperature. I sat perfectly still in the high-backed leather chair that had once belonged to my father.
I was no longer wearing my Manchester hockey jersey or the casual gear of an athlete. I wore a tailored, charcoal-grey three-piece suit. My hands, still bruised and calloused from years of gripping hockey sticks and fighting on the ice, were resting flat on the polished mahogany desk.
In front of me sat the tactical tablet. The glowing green lines of the digital map had turned into
