ICE: Cain Taggert

It started with smoke— not the kind that drifts from cheap cigars or burned-out backrooms. The kind that rolls off concrete after a blast, thick and hot, clinging to the walls like guilt.
The East Wing of the Pentagon got its teeth kicked in at dawn. Nobody died, but that wasn't the point. It wasn't about bodies. It was about embarrassment. Power cracked in half with the cameras rolling.
And just when they were still patching the walls and their pride, Wall Street lit up next. That one did ha...