Chapter Fifty
Feralyn
Saint hadn’t said a word to me since I’d confessed. He’d merely taken the protein bars from me, unwrapped one, then put it back in my hand.
I panic-ate it.
Watching the monitors, he typed commands every couple of minutes.
I stared at the screens like they were my lifeline. And my demise.
Time stopped.
My heart raced.
The men in all black moved.
They crawled. They aimed. They skittered. They closed in, moving toward the house like death.
I waited.
And waited.
They got closer.
And closer.
Until… “Saint!” Like a coordinated horror film playing on multiple screens, nine men, weapons drawn, simultaneously appeared on five monitors as they stepped out of the thick tropical coppice and surrounded the house.
“I see. We’re safe.”
Positioning themselves at the front, sides, and rear of the house, even on the back deck, they were all masked and actively avoiding looking directly at any of the cameras. All except one. Then the unmasked man turned his head, the night-vision camera caught his face, and he smiled.
“No.” Shooting to my feet, jerking back, the reaction was visceral. “This isn’t…. I-I can’t….” No, no, NO. “Th-that’s him. That’s the Vul—”
“Feralyn.” Saint spun in his chair. Then he was instantly on his feet, inches in front of me as he bent his knees so we were eye level. “Do you know what you see?” Hands behind his back, voice too calm, his stare was like, like….
“Th-the Vulture,” I whispered.
“You see no one,” Saint corrected. “You’re secure. This room is secure. Any disturbances on those screens are going to be handled before dawn. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Very good. Do I need to turn off the monitors, or are you going to keep breathing evenly, in and out?” His chest rose and fell in an exaggerated but steady rhythm. Then something flashed on the closest screen behind him.
My pulse skyrocketed, and I looked past him. “There’s an alert.”
Casually turning, Saint typed one-handed on the keyboard and adjusted the view on the monitors. Suddenly, we were watching the Citation come out of the night sky like a sleek beacon of salvation right before it dropped to the runway and slammed on the brakes hard.
“Oh my God.”
“Landed short,” Saint explained, adjusting the camera views on half of the monitors to the airstrip, then the other half to the interior of the house. “Tactical maneuver.”
“Wh-why?” The jet turned around and parked by the hangar.
“Less exposure in the air during critical windows.”
A minute later, the cabin door opened and the airstairs unfolded as Helios, fully armed and wearing all of his combat gear, stepped off the plane.
My heart pounded harder, but my lungs drew in a deep breath.
Glued to the monitor, I watched as Chaos, then Ares, both wearing the same gear as Helios, deplaned. With Helios and Chaos scanning and Ares staring at a device in his hands, they walked almost single file to the hangar, then disappeared inside.
Before I could ask if Saint had a camera angle for the interior of the building, the screen’s image changed to show exactly that.
Helios was yanking a tarp off three ATVs, then all three men were mounting the rugged-looking vehicles. A moment later, with Helios in the lead, they were in a triangular formation, racing down the airstrip toward the sanded road that led to the house.
Seconds after that, they disappeared from the camera angle.
I glanced at the next screen, and terror struck.
Men. Inside the house.
Giant guns pointed, aiming around corners, goggles over their eyes, invading every single room, they were speaking, but the monitors didn’t have any sound.
Before I could absolutely lose it, Saint typed, the image on the screen changed, and I was looking at the sandy road where two bodies lay face down in the foreground as the ATVs raced away in the background.
“Two down,” Saint stated, pulling a chair over next to him. “Are you sure you want to watch this?”
“Yes.” No. But I needed to.
“Then take a seat, Feralyn.”
I sat.
Saint typed again, and the images on the monitors changed to the back deck.
For one second, I stared at the Vulture as he spoke to one of the masked men.
Then Helios was there.
Appearing behind them as if from thin air, locking his muscled arm around the throat of the scarred man while firing his huge rifle at the face of the masked man, then twisting the Vulture around before the other man dropped, Helios threw Scar Face against the side of the house.
Then Helios was firing.
Muzzle flashes lit up the dark.
In rapid succession, three shots hit the Vulture below the waist, three more in his chest, then two struck his forehead. Like a ladder of death, the bullets climbed up his body, ripping into his flesh. His scarred face contorted, brain matter painted the house, then he hit the deck.
The Vulture was dead.
Helios was moving.
The Vulture was dead.
Helios kicked in the back door.
Then everything inside the house exploded into chaos.
Gunfire, muzzle flashes, the screens popping off like fireworks.
Assaulters moving, furniture overturning, bodies falling.
Gun smoke clouding, fragments of death raining down, destruction flying up.
Bullets sprayed like thrown paint, the previously crystal-clear security camera images turned to fog, and my heart stopped.
Then everything stopped.
A light turned on.
Ares moved in the background.
Chaos fired a shot into a prone body.
Expression feral, Helios walked right up to one of the cameras and gave a hand signal. Then he mouthed a single word. “Haven.”
“All clear,” Saint stated.
I rushed the panic room door.
Frantic, somehow managing to disengage the complicated lock, I pushed the heavy door open.
Then I was running up the stairs.