Chapter 13: The Trap Closes
As the three operatives crept across the manicured lawn toward the east wing terrace, the floodlights hidden within the landscaping remained stubbornly dark. To the naked eye, the mansion looked entirely vulnerable, wrapped in a blanket of peaceful sleep.
The lead operative gestured to his companions, signaling them to fan out toward the French doors of Lily's room. He raised a glass-cutter, pressing it softly against the reinforced pane of the sliding glass door.
Click.
A faint mechanical sound echoed through the quiet night. The glass cutter didn't need to cut; the door clicked open on its own.
The operatives froze, their training screaming internal warnings. The door wasn't locked. It had been unlocked, waiting for them.
"Ambush!" the leader hissed, raising his rifle instantly.
Before he could pull the trigger, the entire backyard transformed into a blinding arena of light. Dozens of high-intensity halogen floodlights snapped on simultaneously, turning the night into broad daylight.
At the same exact second, heavy steel security shutters slammed down over every window and door of the mansion with a deafening crash, sealing the escape routes completely.
"Drop your weapons!" a voice boomed from the shadows of the upper terrace.
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The three operatives whipped their heads upward. Standing on the second-story balcony, bathed in the harsh white glare of the floodlights, was Julian Vance. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. He stood tall in a dark tactical turtleneck, his expression carved from absolute stone, holding a specialized tactical rifle trained with pinpoint precision directly on the leader's chest.
"You walked right into the lion's den," Julian said, his voice echoing across the silent lawn like a death sentence.
