The stadium's roar fractured like a thousand jagged shards.
Gasps rippled outward like shockwaves—first one, then a dozen, then twenty thousand voices colliding in raw, disbelieving confusion. The celebration that had been building like a tidal wave crashed and broke.
Phones—still raised, still recording—trembled in frozen hands as every screen captured the exact moment Paradise's carefully curated illusion shattered.
The emergency exits exploded open.
Not one door. All of them. Staff entrances, service corridors, loading bays—every concealed threshold vomited black-clad figures into the arena light.
Tactical vests gleamed dull yellow under the house lights. FBI in bold block letters across chests and backs. No badges flashing for show. No warnings beyond the initial command.
"EVERYBODY STAY WHERE YOU ARE!"
