Chapter 12: The Ghost from the Past
The night air was crisp and silent across the expansive Westchester acreage. Inside the black SUV parked beneath the dense canopy of ancient oaks, three figures sat motionless in tactical black gear. Their faces were obscured by synthetic balaclavas, illuminated only by the faint green glow of encrypted satellite tablets.
"Target status?" whispered the operative in the driver’s seat, his eyes locked on the thermal feed of the mansion's east wing.
"Target confirmed inside the primary structure. The girl is isolated," replied the man in the passenger seat, tapping a stylus against his screen. "Arthur’s arrest at corporate headquarters threw our timeline off, but the directive from the high council remains unchanged. The Sterling bloodline must be completely eradicated. No loose ends. Not the girl, and certainly not the CEO."
"What about Vance?" the driver muttered, resting a gloved hand on the steering wheel. "He's heavily guarded. Taking out a billionaire in his own fortress isn't like snatching a beggar off the street."
"We aren't taking him out—not yet," the team leader said coldly from the back seat, checking the silencer on his assault rifle with a soft metallic click. "We secure the girl, send a message written in blood, and let Julian Vance know that his little royal game is over. Move out."
The doors of the SUV opened silently. Three shadows slipped out from the vehicle, melting seamlessly into the deep brush surrounding the perimeter fence.
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They moved with terrifying efficiency, scaling the twelve-foot iron perimeter spiked fence as if it were a low garden wall. They didn't trigger a single alarm. To the automated security grid, it was as if ghosts had just crossed the threshold.
What the assassins didn't know, however, was that they were walking straight into a trap meticulously orchestrated by a man who owned the very technology they thought they were bypassing.
