Chapter 6 - The Siege of AshevilleThe Prescott mountain estate in Asheville was built like a modern fortress. Nestled high on a cliffside, surrounded by twelve-foot electric fencing, armed private security patrols, and thermal cameras, it was virtually impenetrable.
Inside the glass-walled mansion overlooking the misty blue valley, Margaret Prescott raised a crystal glass of scotch toward General Richard Vance. Ethan sat nearby, wearing an ankle monitor, looking restless but triumphant.
"To complete immunity," Margaret toasted, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "Colonel Hart will be spending the rest of her life in a military prison. And her pathetic daughter will never speak a word again."
General Vance took a slow sip, his multi-starred uniform crisp and immaculate. "Sarah was always too emotional. She suffered from a fatal flaw, Margaret: she actually believed in honor."
Ethan let out a harsh laugh. "I wish I could watch when they throw her in a cell. She thought her uniform made her untouchable."
BANG!
A deafening explosion rocked the entire estate, shattering the floor-to-ceiling glass windows into a million glistening shards. The lights flickered and died instantly, plunging the mansion into total, terrifying darkness.
Emergency sirens blared across the mountain peak.
"What was that?!" Margaret shrieked, dropping her glass as it shattered on the floor.
"Security! Get in here!" General Vance roared, reaching for his sidearm.
Outside, tactical smoke flooded the compound. Through the haze emerged four figures wearing full night-vision gear and silent tactical equipment. My team moved with terrifying, surgical precision, taking down the Prescott private guards in seconds with non-lethal shock rounds before they could even raise their weapons.
I kicked open the heavy oak double doors of the main lounge, my rifle raised, the red laser sight cutting through the swirling smoke and hovering directly over General Vance's chest.
"Good evening, General," I said, my voice magnified and distorted through my tactical comms mask.
Margaret let out a terrified scream, scrambling behind Ethan, who was shaking so hard his knees were knocking together.
"Sarah?!" General Vance gasped, backing away slowly toward his desk. "Are you insane?! You are committing high treason! Lower your weapon!"
"Treason?" I laughed, stepping forward into the moonlight streaming through the shattered windows. "Treason is selling out American soldiers for offshore bank accounts, Richard. Treason is letting a spoiled predator beat my daughter because his mother paid for your political ambitions."
"Shoot her!" Ethan screamed at his guards, but no one moved—every single one of their security personnel was already bound and unconscious on the lawn outside.
General Vance tried to reach into his blazer for a concealed firearm, but before his hand could touch the holster, I fired two quick rounds. The bullets struck his wrist and shoulder with blinding speed, knocking him off his feet and slamming him into the glass wall behind him.
He collapsed onto the marble floor, groaning in agony, clutching his bloody arm.
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"You can't win, Sarah..." Vance wheezed, looking up at me in terror. "The system... the government... they will never let you walk away from this."
"I'm not trying to walk away, Richard," I said smoothly, reaching into my vest and pulling out a small satellite transmitter. "I'm broadcasting."
