Page 62 of Sanctuary

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.

Chapter 29

Mia

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of final preparations. Weapons were checked and rechecked, communications systems tested, defensive positions fortified. As the sun began its descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds, the tension throughout the estate became palpable.

Connor and I made our way to the barn, setting up my sniper position in the hayloft. The old floorboards creaked beneath our feet as I assembled the rifle with practiced efficiency, each component clicking into place with satisfying precision.

“You’ve done this before,” Connor said, watching my hands move with fluid grace.

“Many times,” I admitted, adjusting the scope. “Though usually I was on the other side of the equation.”

He helped me position sandbags to stabilize the rifle, then set up his own observation post nearby with high-powered binoculars. As I settled into position on my stomach, sighting along the barrel to check fields of fire, I felt a strange sense of calm descend over me. This was familiar terrain—the waiting, the watching, the measured breathing that steadied both hand and heart.

“How far can you shoot with that thing?” Connor asked, scanning the tree line through his binoculars.

“Effectively? Just a little over a mile in these conditions,” I replied, making a minute adjustment to the scope. “But I’d prefer they get a lot closer than that.”

“Let’s hope they don’t,” he murmured, keying his radio to check in with Declan.

As darkness fell, the estate transformed. Exterior lights were dimmed or turned off completely, creating pools of shadow where defenders could move unseen. Infrared sensors had been activated along the perimeter, feeding data to the security monitors where Wren maintained a vigilant watch.

Hours passed in tense silence. Connor remained beside me, his presence a comfort as we scanned the darkness for any sign of movement. Occasionally, the radio would crackle with status updates from the other positions, but otherwise, the night was eerily quiet.

As midnight approached, I whispered, “Something’s wrong.” I laid my forehead on the sandbag my arm rested on, stretching the muscles in my neck. “They should have made a move by now.”

”Maybe Elise was wrong on the timing.” I looked at him and saw his brow wrinkled as he scanned the perimeter with his binoculars.

“No,” I said, a chill running down my spine. “Matheson is nothing if not precise. If she said tonight, it’s tonight.”

The radio crackled. “Hey, you two in the barn,” Wren’s voice came through, tense but controlled. “We’ve got movement at the southeast perimeter. Three bodies moving through the tree line.”

Connor immediately shifted his focus, scanning the indicated area. “I don’t see—wait.” He stiffened. “There. Using the shadows between the weeping willows.”

I adjusted my position slightly, peering through the scope. Three figures moved with practiced stealth, their dark tactical gear blending with the night. They were good—professional—maintaining proper spacing and using available cover.

“I see them,” I confirmed, my finger hovering near the trigger guard. “Advance team, probably checking for security measures before the main force moves in.”

Connor keyed his radio. “Wren, we have visuals on the southeast team. Three operatives, full tactical gear. Permission to engage?”

Declan’s voice responded immediately. “Negative. Let them come closer. We need to identify their entry point.”

I watched through the scope as the team continued their approach, methodically checking for trip wires or sensors. Their movements were familiar—textbook agency infiltration tactics.

“That’s Jenkins leading them,” I murmured, recognizing the point man’s distinctive movement pattern. “Former JTF2. Matheson’s top infiltration specialist.”

“What is that?” Connor asked, his voice carefully neutral.

“Joint Task Force. It’s the Canadian special ops, like the Delta Force for the US.”

“And you know him?” he asked, likely wondering how I did.

We trained together,” I replied, tracking Jenkins through my scope. “He’s good. Very good.”

The team reached the edge of the formal gardens, pausing to confer briefly before splitting up. Jenkins headed toward the east wing, while the other two moved toward the main house.

“They’re separating,” Connor reported into the radio. “One heading east, two toward the main entrance.”

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