“Hold it steady for seven seconds,” Ronan instructed. “Don’t move.”
I forced my trembling hand still, counting silently. One. Two. Three. Four.
On five, a tiny green light flickered on the device. The grate’s lock disengaged with a soft click that sounded deafening to my hyperaware senses.
I froze, eyes fixed on the guard below. He didn’t react. Still absorbed in his phone.
Carefully, I lifted the grate, setting it aside within the duct. The opening revealed a ten-foot drop to the hardwood floor below.
I slipped through the opening first until I was hanging by my hands from the duct’s edge. My arms strained with the effort of supporting my weight. The drop was stillsubstantial—seven feet, maybe. I took a deep breath and let go.
I landed harder than intended, my right ankle twisting slightly. The thud of my impact caused the guard to jerk upright, eyes widening as he registered my presence. His hand moved immediately toward his sidearm.
Pure instinct drove me forward. I grabbed the nearest heavy object—a polished stone artifact shaped like a jaguar—and swung it in a wild arc. It connected with the side of his head with a sickening crack. He crumpled, sliding from his chair to the floor.
I stood over him, chest heaving, the stone jaguar still clutched in my white-knuckled grip. Blood trickled from a cut on his temple, but his chest rose and fell steadily. Thank God—unconscious, not dead.
“Maeve? Everything alright?” Ronan’s voice came through. I stared at the guard who was still spread out on the floor, with blood pooling around his head. My hands trembled so badly that I nearly dropped the statue. I’d never hit anyone like this before. This man had a family, a life, and I just smashed an artifact into his skull. The violence of my own actions terrified me.What kind of person was I becoming in this desperate search? Xavier, what would you think of your little sister now?
Journalists were supposed to uncover the truth, not crack skulls. But normal journalists didn’t infiltrate shadowy organizations to find their missing brothers.
“Maeve?” Ronan repeated, more worried now.
I drew in a shaky breath, trying to regain my focus. Telling him I had walked into trouble would only cause him to worry more. Or worse, demand that I back out. This issue was dealt with. There was no point in bringing it up.
“I’m fine.”
I dragged the guard into a corner, partially hidden from view, then turned to the wall behind his workspace, where an ornate display of ancient masks concealed the control panel I came for.
“I’m in position,” Ronan’s voice steadied my nerves as I approached the wall of masks, each one watching me with hollow, judgmental eyes. “Are you in?”
I slid my fingers under the edge of the largest mask—a fearsome warrior with obsidian eyes—and pulled. The entire panel rotated smoothly on hidden hinges, revealing a state-of-the-art security hub. Blue light from a dozen monitors bathed my face as I slipped inside, the panel silently closing behind me.
“I’m in,” I confirmed, surveying the equipment. Multiple screens displayed different areas of the estate—manicured gardens, an infinity pool overlooking the city lights, and ornate hallways with priceless art.
My heart sank as I scanned the control panel. Dozens of unmarked switches, multiple keyboards, and at least three different security systems running simultaneously.
“There’s… a lot here,” I muttered, panic rising.
“Breathe,” Ronan’s voice steadied me. “Look for the main interface. Probably a touchscreen with a system map.”
I forced myself to slow down, my journalist’s instincts kicking in. This was just another puzzle to solve, another system to understand. I’d decoded government redactions and corporate doublespeak—surely I could figure out a security system.
My eyes caught a sleek touchpad nestled between two keyboards. I tapped it, and a holographic display materialized, showing a 3D layout of the entire estate.
“Got it,” I said, my fingers already navigating through security zones. “The estate is divided into quadrants. Perimeter sensors are embedded in the landscaping lights.”
My watch vibrated softly: T-minus two minutes until planned breach.
As I worked, I noted details with a journalist’s eye—the unusual laboratory equipment visible in one wing, research that definitely wasn’t cosmetic—evidence for later.
“Disabling east section perimeter sensors,” I reported, fingers flying across the touchscreen. Little green dots turned red as systems went offline. “East section clear. Proceeding to the camera system.”
The security system required override codes that Specter had provided. I tracked guard movement throughout the property, relieved that they seemed unaware of the intrusion.
“Three guards in the east wing near the infinity pool,” I reported. “Two are approaching the main entrance.”
A red warning light flashed as I disabled the last camera in the east sector. I held my breath, but no alarm sounded.
