Chapter 28
Mia
As the brothers stepped onto the back patio, Rory motioned for me to follow him. We walked in silence through the house to a set of stairs that went to the basement. He finally stopped in a little room with a heavy oak door. On the bookcase, he slid a photo aside revealing a keypad. He entered a code, and the lock disengaged with a soft click.
“How long have you been doing this?”
he asked as we stepped into another room with paneled walls.
“Killing people, you mean?”
I replied, appreciating his directness.
“Yes.”
“Since I was nineteen,”
I said. “Matheson recruited me at eighteen, put me through a year of intensive training, then deployed me to my first assignment. I’ve been active for 13 years.”
Rory whistled low. “That’s a long time in that line of work.”
“Longer than most,”
I agreed. “The burnout rate is high. Most operatives last five years, maybe seven. The ones who survive longer tend to either become trainers or...” I trailed off.
“Or?”
he prompted.
“Or they become like Craven,”
I finished. “Sadists who enjoy the work too much.”
He ran a hand along the panels of the wall, and they slid open to reveal a good size arsenal.
Weapons of every variety lined the walls—handguns, shotguns, rifles, and an impressive collection of bladed weapons. Cases of ammunition were neatly stacked on shelves, and tactical gear hung on racks along the back wall.
“Impressive,”
I said, genuinely surprised by the extent of their preparation. “I see the family believes in being ready for anything.”
“The MacGallan clan has survived for centuries by being prepared,”
Rory replied, moving to a gun safe in the corner. “We’ve had our share of enemies over the years.”
He entered another code, and the safe swung open to reveal a collection of high-end sniper rifles. I stepped forward, my eyes immediately drawn to a familiar silhouette.
“Is that a McMillan TAC-50?”
I asked, unable to keep the appreciation from my voice.
“Good eye,”
Rory confirmed, lifting the rifle from its mount. “Custom modifications, match-grade barrel, upgraded trigger assembly. It’s Declan’s pride and joy.”
I took the weapon respectfully, feeling its perfect balance as I checked the action. “This is... exceptional.”
“Think you can handle it?”
There was a hint of challenge in his voice.
I met his gaze steadily. “I am an expert with this same weapon. Longest confirmed kill within the agency, 1,850 meters.”
His eyebrows rose slightly. “That’s approaching world record territory.”
“I know,”
I replied simply.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded once. “It’s yours for today. Along with this.”
He handed me a Glock 19, which I quickly checked and tucked into my waistband. “Standard issue for clan security.”
As we gathered ammunition and additional equipment, the door to the armory opened again. Connor stood there, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of me with the sniper rifle.
“Everything okay?”
I asked, noting the tension in his shoulders.
“Fine,”
he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. “Declan’s just being... Declan.”
Rory snorted. “Meaning he’s being an ass.”
A hint of a smile touched Connor’s lips. “Something like that.”
His eyes found mine again. “He’s bringing everyone up to speed in the study. We should join them.”
Once there, the atmosphere was one of controlled urgency. Everyone looked up as we entered, their expressions ranging from Kat being cautious, Wren upset and Declan to coldly professional.
“There you are,”
he said, straightening. His eyes flicked to the rifle in my hands, his jaw tightening momentarily before he continued. “I was just explaining our defensive strategy.”
I moved closer to the map, studying his markings with a critical eye. “You’re anticipating a three-pronged approach,”
I observed.
“Yes. Main force at the front gates as a diversion, with smaller teams coming in from the east and west.”
I shook my head slightly. “That’s standard procedure, but Matheson won’t follow it. Not for something this important.”
All eyes turned to me as I set the rifle down carefully and reached for a marker. “May I?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Declan nodded.
I circled several points on the map. “Matheson will send in at least five teams. Two at the main approach points as you anticipated, but he’ll also have snipers pre-positioned at these three locations.”
I marked spots on the hillside overlooking the estate. “They’ll establish firing positions at least six hours before the main assault. And he’ll have a stealth team coming in underground.”
“Underground?”
Rory frowned. “Through the tunnel system?”
“Exactly,”
I confirmed. “Matheson has detailed intelligence on this estate, including the original architectural plans. He knows about the escape tunnel Tomas had built.”
Declan and Connor exchanged alarmed glances.
“And you’re just mentioning that now?! How do you know this?”
Declan demanded.
“Because it’s what I would do,”
I replied simply. “And because it’s in the intelligence package my contact provided. Matheson’s operation plan includes detailed schematics of the tunnel system.”
Connor stepped forward, studying the map. “If they’re coming through the tunnel, we need to rig explosives to collapse sections if necessary and lock the steel door from the inside. No one can get through that.”
“And we’ll need counter-snipers at these positions,”
Rory added, indicating elevated points on the property. “Mia, that’s where you’ll be most effective.”
I nodded, mentally calculating angles and fields of fire. “The hayloft in the barn gives me the best vantage point. I can cover most of the approach routes from there.”
“I’ll be with her,”
Connor said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Spotting and backup if need be.”
Declan looked like he wanted to object but seemed to think better of it. “Fine. Rory and I will coordinate the ground defense. The reinforcements should arrive within the hour—all former military, all clan-loyal. They know what they’re doing.”
“What about us?”
Wren asked, speaking up for the first time. She avoided looking directly at me, focusing instead on her husband.
“You and Kat will be in the panic room,”
Declan replied, his voice softening as he addressed his wife. “It’s the most secure location on the property.”
“No,”
Wren said firmly, surprising everyone. “I’m not hiding while my family fights. I can handle a shotgun, and Kat’s a better fighter without a weapon than half your men.”
Kat nodded in agreement, her quiet determination evident in her stance.
Declan opened his mouth to argue, but Rory cut him off. “They’re right. We need every advantage. Wren can monitor the security cameras, coordinate our movements. Kat you come with us.”
After a moment’s consideration, Declan nodded reluctantly. “Alright.”
He looked at Wren then at his sister. “But at the first sign that things are going south, you both get to the panic room. No heroics.”
Wren’s eyes briefly met mine, and I saw a flicker of something—not forgiveness, not yet, but perhaps understanding. She gave me a small nod before turning her attention back to Declan.
As the meeting continued, we finalized positions, communications protocols, and contingency plans. By mid-morning, the reinforcements had arrived— ten grim-faced men who greeted Declan and Connor with respect bordering on reverence. They barely glanced at me, taking their cues from their leaders.
Around noon, we took a break to eat and rest before the final preparations. I found myself alone in the kitchen, staring out the window at the peaceful grounds that would soon become a battlefield. The weight of what was coming—what I had brought to this family’s doorstep—pressed down on me like a physical burden.
“It’s not your fault,”
a quiet voice said behind me.
I turned to find Wren standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. It was the first time she’d directly addressed me since learning the truth.
“Isn’t it?”
I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. “Matheson is coming because of me. Because I failed my mission.”
“No,”
she said, stepping into the room. “He’s coming because of what Tomas had on him. You’re just the weapon he chose to use.” She moved to the counter, maintaining a careful distance between us. “That’s what you were to him, right? A weapon.”
I nodded slowly. “That’s what we all were. Weapons to be aimed and fired.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, Wren took a deep breath.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,”
she said, her voice steady despite the pain evident in her eyes. “Not yet. But I understand why you did what you did. To protect Lily.”
“And you,”
I added softly. “I couldn’t bear to hurt you Wren by taking Declan from you.”
“If we survive today,”
she said carefully, “maybe we can try to... I don’t know. Start over, somehow.”
It wasn’t forgiveness, but it was more than I deserved. “I’d like that,”
I whispered.
The sound of footsteps approaching broke the moment. Connor appeared in the doorway, his expression softening as he took in the scene before him.
“Everything okay?”
he asked, looking between us.
Wren nodded, straightening her shoulders. “Yes. I was just telling my sister that we have work to do.”
She moved past him, pausing briefly at the door. “Declan wants everyone ready in twenty.”
As she disappeared down the hall, Connor crossed the room to stand beside me. “That looked... promising.”
“It was,”
I admitted, a small flicker of hope kindling in my chest. “More than I expected.”
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face with a gentleness that made my heart ache. “Whatever happens tonight, we’ll face it together.”
I leaned into his touch, savoring what might be our last moment of peace. “Promise me something,”
I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Anything.”
“If things go wrong—if I don’t make it through this—promise me you’ll find Lily. That you’ll protect her.”
His expression grew serious. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
“Promise me,”
I insisted, needing to hear the words.
“I promise,”
he said finally, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheek. “But it won’t come to that. We’re going to survive this, Mia. All of us.”
I wished I could share his certainty. Instead, I rose on my tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it.