Chapter 12 - The Perimeter Breach
At 3:14 AM, the motion-sensor floodlights along the western property line flickered and died.
Not burned out. Systematically disabled by a localized electromagnetic pulse or a professional hardline cut.
I was out of bed before the last bulb darkened, moving with silent, fluid grace. I didn't turn on a single light in the house. I slipped into my tactical vest, loaded two primary magazines into my modular carbine, and checked the feed from my hardwired, battery-backed analog security monitors.
Three figures in matte-black night-vision gear were moving across the lawn like ghosts. They weren't clumsy local thugs like Richard’s security guards; these were tier-one contractors, moving in textbook diamond formation, weapons suppressed, sweeping every corner of the property.
"Target is isolated," a low, digital whisper crackled over a nearby radio frequency I had patched into my scanner. "Secure the cipher from the basement, eliminate the asset, and leave no trace."
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They thought I was trapped. They thought this isolated house was a cage.
I smiled faintly in the dark, sliding the safety off my carbine. They had walked right into the kill zone.
