Chapter 5 - The Master CodeDominic didn't lower the gun. The dark barrel remained locked on her chest.
"The southwest service gate opened two minutes ago using a Level-1 master override," Dominic said, his eyes scanning every inch of the kitchen for hidden threats. "Only three people have that code. I am standing here. Julian is down the hall in his room. Which leaves you, or someone you let in."
Grace sighed, leaning back against the marble counter and crossing her arms over her chest.
"Look out the window, genius."
Dominic didn't move. "Move away from the counter."
"I said, look out the window," Grace repeated, her voice suddenly cutting through his commands with absolute authority. "Unless your security system is even more incompetent than I thought, you might notice that the wind knocked down a fifty-year-old oak branch onto the perimeter sensor grid at 3:42 AM, shorting out the digital relay box. That’s why the amber light blinked."
Dominic’s jaw tightened. He kept his eyes locked on her while using his left hand to tap the tactical comms unit in his ear.
"Control," Dominic barked into the radio. "Calvin, report."
A static hiss crackled in his ear, followed by Calvin’s sleepy, gravelly voice. "Boss? Everything’s quiet. Wait—checking the exterior sensors now. Ah... sir, Sector 9 relay box just took a hit from a fallen branch. Power surge triggered the override safety protocol. False alarm."
Dominic slowly lowered the gun, though he didn't holster it yet. He stared at Grace, his mind racing to catch up.
"You checked the exterior weather logs?" Dominic asked, astounded.
"I grew up in the Midwest, Mr. Vale. When the wind howls like a banshee through forty acres of dead November trees, branches fall. It’s physics, not a syndicate hit." Grace pushed off the counter and walked past him toward the kettle, stepping close enough that he could smell the faint scent of lavender and laundry detergent on her robe. "Now, are you going to stand there pointing a piece of expensive metal at me all night, or are you going to let me finish making your brother's tea before he has his 4:00 AM panic attack?"
Dominic stared at her back as she poured the hot water into a ceramic mug.
"Panic attack?" Dominic asked sharply. "Julian doesn't have panic attacks."
Grace stopped pouring. She didn't turn around immediately.
"Everyone has panic attacks when they're trapped in a cage, Mr. Vale," she said quietly. "Some people just scream. Others write stories about detectives who are too afraid to look in the mirror."
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She picked up the mug, walked right past Dominic without sparing him a glance, and headed down the hall toward Julian’s room.
Dominic stood alone in the kitchen, his hand gripping the pistol until his fingers ached.
