The clock in my head counts down. Ninety seconds. That's all we have.
"Gap in thirty seconds," Jinx reports.
I squeeze Jonah's hand once, then release it. His eyes meet mine in the darkness. He's scared. I can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the quick rhythm of his breathing. But he's here anyway. Committed.
I love him for that. For all of it.
"Twenty seconds."
I pull the wire cutters from my pack. The fence is the first obstacle. After that, fifty meters of open ground to the house. Then the real work begins.
"Ten seconds."
My muscles tense. Everything narrows to this moment. The cold air. The distant guards. The soft glow of the house ahead.
"Go."
I cut the fence. We move.
Fifty meters across the lawn, crouching low, moving fast. The house looms ahead, and I can see the side door. Ten meters. Five.
Jonah reaches the door first, tests the handle. It opens.
We slip inside, and the door closes behind us with a soft click.
The house is quiet. Too quiet.
"East team, status."
Nothing.
"East team, report."
Static.
I grab Jonah's arm, pulling him against the wall. Something's wrong. The plan accounted for guards, for cameras, for locked doors. It didn't account for silence.
Then I hear it. Footsteps. Multiple sets. Coming from deeper in the house.
And a voice I recognize.
"Mr. Harrison. We've been expecting you."
The lights snap on, blinding after the darkness. I blink, raising my weapon, and find myself staring at six Ministry operatives in full tactical gear.
Standing in front of them, smiling like a cat with a cornered mouse, is Alfred Webb.
"Did you really think," he says, "that we wouldn't be watching?"
Chapter Sixteen: Jonah
Sixoperatives.Fulltacticalgear with weapons raised and pointed at our chests.
And Alfred Webb, smiling like Christmas came early.
My brain processes this in fragments. The blinding lights. Jagger's body going rigid beside me. The cold weight of the gun in my hand that suddenly feels like a toy compared to the assault rifles pointed at our chests. The smell, fuck me, the smell. Fear. True, uncompromising fear.
"Weapons down," Webb says pleasantly. "Hands where we can see them. You know how this works, Jagger. Don't make it messier than it needs to be."
