Chapter 13
The firefight was over in less than twenty minutes. The Shaw strike team was completely annihilated, leaving dozens of bodies scattered across the pristine, snow-covered estate. Tristan walked back through the heavy front doors, the cold winter air clinging to his unbuttoned shirt. The bright, cinematic lighting of the foyer flickered back on as the tactical red strobes deactivated. Tristan handed his rifle to a waiting guard. He looked flawless, completely unbothered by the slaughter he had just orchestrated, save for a few drops of blood staining his crisp white cuff. "The perimeter is secure, Boss," Marcus reported, stepping into the foyer, his face grim. "Cleanup crews are moving the bodies to the incinerators. We suffered zero casualties." "We suffered a breach," Tristan corrected smoothly, his cold eyes locking onto his security chief. "They knew the exact timing of the patrol shifts. They bypassed the thermal cameras on the east wall. Find the rat, Marcus. Tear the staff quarters apart. No one sleeps until I have a name." "Yes, Boss." Tristan didn't wait to oversee the interrogation. He walked purposefully toward the grand staircase, his heavy footsteps echoing on the marble. He bypassed his study and headed straight for the lower levels, his sole focus returning to the woman and child hidden in the dark. He reached the panic suite and pressed his thumb to the biometric scanner. The heavy steel door hissed open. Audrey was sitting on the sofa, holding a sleeping Maisie tightly against her chest. When the door opened, she looked up, her beautiful, heart-shaped face pale with anxiety. When she saw Tristan standing in the doorway, unharmed and towering, a profound wave of relief washed over her features. "It's over," Tristan murmured softly, stepping into the small panic room.
