CHAP 3: Shadows in the Sanctuary
"Stand down, Evelyn," Agent Marcus Vance said, his weapon drawn and pointed directly at my chest.
The silence that followed was louder than the alarms. I didn't reach for my weapon. I kept my hands visible, my eyes locking onto the man I had trained, the man I had treated like a son after my own husband passed away.
"Marcus," I said, my voice maintaining its trademark calm despite the fury raging in my veins. "How much did Victor pay you?"
"More than a government pension could ever offer," Vance said, his face devoid of emotion. "The Iron Syndicate doesn't just build walls, Evelyn. They build empires. Victor is too valuable to sit in a cell. We're taking him out tonight, and you, Claire, and the boy are going to disappear. Officially, a tragic safehouse fire caused by a faulty heating unit."
From the hallway, I heard a gasp.
Claire stood there, clutching Noah to her chest. She had heard everything. Her eyes, once filled with the fear of her husband's abuse, suddenly hardened. The blood of a Director ran through her veins, too.
"Mom?" she whispered.
"Stay back, Claire," I commanded, never breaking eye contact with Vance. "Marcus, you forgot one thing about my retirement."
"What's that?" Vance sneered, tightening his grip on the trigger.
"I didn't leave because I was tired. I left because I built the system you're currently trying to use."
With a flick of my left wrist, I pressed a micro-transmitter hidden inside my watch. The safehouse’s environmental controls instantly overrode. A high-frequency acoustic pulse, designed to incapacitate intruders, blasted through the room's speakers.
Vance dropped to his knees, screaming, clutching his ears as blood began to trickle from them. The tactical officers behind him stumbled, dropping their weapons.
I moved with the speed of a woman half my age. I grabbed the heavy glass coffee pot from the counter, shattered it across the face of the nearest officer, snatched his sidearm before he hit the floor, and fired three precise shots.
The two officers collapsed. Vance was still on the floor, disoriented and writhing.
I walked over to him, stood over his shaking frame, and pointed the barrel of the gun at his forehead.
"Where are they taking Victor?" I demanded.
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"It's... it's too late," Vance wheezed, coughing up blood. "The extraction team already hit the central holding facility. Victor is free. And he’s coming to finish what he started at the dinner table."
HOOK FOR CHAP 4: Before I could pull the trigger to extract more information, Vance’s phone buzzed on the floor. The caller ID read: DANIEL.
