In Washington City, far from the glass towers and quiet streets above, a different kind of room existed underground.
It was a spacious meeting chamber buried deep beneath the capital. Bright white lights flooded the ceiling, so intense that anyone entering might easily mistake the hour for noon rather than the middle of the night.
At the center of the room stood a long table of polished dark metal, surrounded by many chairs.
Most of them were empty.
Only four were occupied.
One sat at the head of the table. The other three lined the sides, spaced apart from each other, leaving the rest of the seats untouched.
The men seated there were not speaking.
Each of them had just received the same piece of information.
And judging by their expressions, none of them liked it.
The Ashvale family had nearly been wiped out.
