Chapter 20
The private jet tore through the night sky, flying low under radar toward the isolated, rural Montana compound. Alessandra sat in the plush leather seat, systematically checking the magazines of her compact, suppressed sidearm. She was dressed for combat in black tactical gear, the heavy diamond earrings replaced by sleek comms earpieces, though the solid gold signet ring remained on her finger.
Silas sat across from her, reviewing satellite imagery on his tablet. "The compound is entirely dark. The localized jammers are still down, but there's no heat signatures indicating a massive hostile force. Vargas might have sent a small extraction team to grab your family."
"They won't get them," Alessandra said, her voice dead calm, a low whisper that carried absolute, terrifying authority.
The jet landed on a small, private airstrip ten miles from the compound. Alessandra and her strike team piled into heavily armored, unmarked SUVs and drove through the freezing, pitch-black wilderness. When they reached the perimeter of the isolation zone, they found the outer gate blown off its hinges.
"Move in. Suppressed weapons only. No survivors," Alessandra ordered, stepping out into the freezing mud.
The tactical team moved like ghosts through the dense pine trees, approaching the main house. The front door was wide open, swaying slightly in the wind. Alessandra drew her weapon, entering the dark, silent house with fluid, predatory speed.
She swept the main living room, the beam of her tactical flashlight cutting through the gloom. Suddenly, she stopped.
Sitting on the couch, illuminated by the harsh beam of her light, were Vincent, Francesca, and Bianca. They were bound to the furniture with heavy zip-ties, their mouths duct-taped shut. Their fair, rosy skin was pale and drawn with sheer, suffocating terror. They looked at Alessandra, their eyes wide and pleading for salvation from the daughter they had betrayed.
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But Alessandra didn't lower her weapon. She didn't rush to untie them. She stood perfectly still, her breathing steady, realizing with horrifying clarity that there were no Vargas mercenaries in the house.
"It's an ambush," Alessandra whispered, spinning around just as a heavy, metallic click echoed from the shadows behind her.
