Chapter 17 - The Siege Plan
The tranquil illusion of safety shattered over the next forty-eight hours with terrifying speed.
Communication lines to the estate went dead just after midnight. The encrypted satellite feeds flickered and went black one by one, cut off by professional signal jammers positioned somewhere in the surrounding hills.
Inside the reinforced command center in the basement, Ethan moved with ruthless efficiency, issuing rapid-fire orders to his remaining loyal captains.
“Double the perimeter patrols on the north ridge,” Ethan commanded, staring at the offline tactical screens. “They’re not using local thugs. If the jammers are military-grade, we’re dealing with an elite infiltration unit.”
I stood beside him, clutching a ruggedized radio handset. “Where are they coming from?”
“Everywhere,” Ethan said, turning to look at me, his eyes burning with fierce intensity. “Clara, listen to me. This isn't like Margaret or Thorne. These men operate in total shadow. If they breach the house, they won't negotiate.”
“I’m not running, Ethan,” I said, my voice unwavering. “I survived pediatric ICU wards and mob assassins. I’m not leaving Noah, and I’m not leaving you.”
Ethan stared at me for a long moment, a rare, fierce admiration flashing in his dark gaze. He reached into his desk drawer, withdrawing a sleek, compact sidearm and sliding it across the metal surface toward me.
“Can you shoot?” he asked.
“I grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana,” I replied, picking up the weapon and checking the chamber with fluid, practiced ease. “What do you think?”
May you like
A grim, approving smirk touched the corner of Ethan’s mouth. “Stay behind me until the doors breach. After that... protect our boy.”
Before he could say another word, the mansion’s exterior security lights flickered violently and died, plunging the entire estate into pitch-black darkness, illuminated only by the pale, eerie glow of the emergency backup generators.
