Three hours, and not a single non-random movement. Then this.
Son of a bitch.
I ease onto my elbows, feeling the cool earth seep into bone, and switch my focus to the surveillance net. Cameras are mounted with military geometry, ensuring no blind spots. Every lens overlaps another in a matrix of attention.
Someone built this with intent, someone who understands danger like I do.
A second after my phone vibrates at my thigh, I pop the line open.
“Report.” Roman.
“Not good. Just like you anticipated, security is tight. Patrols are randomized, and the camera grid is solid. I need more time.”
Silence drags on as Roman calculates. I can almost feel him grinding over cost, risk, and opportunity. “We don’t have more time. We have to retrieve whatever’s inside that safe before anyone else does.”
I make the promise. “I’ll get in.”
“See that you do.” The line goes dead.
The unusually early fall frost grows teeth as I set the phone aside and press my earpiece. Alexei picks up with a wordless click.
“I need Emil.” He’s the cousin who’s best at tech stuff. There’s no system he can’t hack.
After a pause, Emil Kozlov’s sharp, professional voice comes through. “What ya need?”
“Richard Hearst’s estate. Schematics. Give me an entry point.”
Fingers pound away at the keyboard with the same kind of passion you might expect from tech nerds and gamers. Emil whistles softly through his teeth. “Impressive setup. Security feeds, alarm nets, perimeter sensors… Kirill, this is next level. Whoever ran point on this was scared. Paranoid, even.”
I keep observing the grounds, tracking guards that never repeat. “Find me an angle. Anything. A blind spot.”
“It’s a closed loop.” Emil’s tight, tense. “No outbound feed. I can’t hack what I can’t reach.”
My jaw locks. “Service net? Power? Water?”
“Air-gapped. Completely isolated. Maybe I could play with the sprinklers, but you’re not getting into the house that way.”
Below, the mansion glows with distant, untouchable warmth. I remember Jordan’s words at the hotel.
It’s designed to keep the messy world out.
She’s seen this place for what it is. More than just a rich man’s bunker, this is a stronghold built by people who know what lurks in the dark.
Sharks like me.
“Check again.” I refuse to quit. “Physical flaws. Camera overlap. There has to be something.”
“I’m looking.” Emil stays steady, but I can hear the strain in his voice. “They’ve got it all. Motion overlaid with heat sensors…redundant everything. No outside lines. Not even a crack at the service doors. Whoever built this was meticulous.”
I drag in a lungful of cold, letting the burn settle me.
I’ve cracked government buildings, rival syndicates, and black sites with armed guards and walls of steel, but this place is a different beast. A fortress with no seams or levers.
This isn’t right. “Don’t stop. If you keep searching, I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do.” But the awful truth already lies in the lights below me.
I can’t break in. Not alone, anyway. Not with the tricks I know.
I take one last sweep with the binoculars, cataloguing every guard and camera. Then I pack up, running on muscle and my refusal to let go.
