Page 63 of Sanctuary

“Roger that,” Declan responded. “Stand by.”

I kept my scope on Jenkins, watching as he expertly navigated the shadowed path toward the east wing. Something about his movement caught my attention—a slight hesitation, a check of what appeared to be a small device in his hand.

“He’s checking for something,” I whispered. “Some kind of detector.”

“For what?” Connor asked, shifting his binoculars to follow my line of sight.

Before I could answer, a series of soft pops echoed across the grounds, followed by plumes of dense white smoke billowing up from multiple locations around the perimeter.

“Smoke screen,” I hissed, immediately understanding the strategy. “They’re creating cover for the main force.”

The radio exploded with chatter as visibility rapidly deteriorated across the estate. Through my scope, I could see Jenkins using the confusion to sprint toward the east wing entrance. The two other operatives had disappeared into the smoke, heading toward the main house.

“I’ve lost visual on targets two and three,” Connor reported, frustration evident in his voice.

“Wren to all teams,” Wren’s voice came through, tight with urgency. “Multiple heat signatures appearing on all sides. At least fifteen—no, twenty approaching under cover of smoke.”

“This is it,” I said, adjusting my position to maintain a line of sight on what little I could still see. “Matheson’s going all in.”

The first shots rang out from the direction of the main house—controlled three-round bursts that I recognized as agency-standard suppressive fire. Return fire immediately erupted from Declan’s position, the distinctive crack of his team’s weapons cutting through the night.

“Barn team,” Declan’s voice came through, the sound of gunfire in the background, “we’ve got heavy contact at the main entrance. At least eight of them. What’s your status?”

“East wing has at least one approaching,” Connor replied. “Limited visibility due to smoke. Mia still has eyes on Jenkins.”

“Take him out,” Declan ordered without hesitation.

I centered my crosshairs on Jenkins’ chest as he approached the east wing door. His movements were confident, practiced—he clearly believed he remained undetected. I took a slow, deep breath, feeling time slow as I prepared to take the shot.

“Wait,” I whispered, noticing something in Jenkins’ hand. “He’s placing something on the door.”

“What is it?” Connor asked, straining to see through his binoculars.

“Breaching charge,” I replied, my finger steady on the trigger. “If I take him now, it might detonate.”

Connor keyed his radio. “East wing team, be advised: hostile is placing a breaching charge on your door. Take cover!”

The warning came just in time. As Jenkins stepped back from the door, the charge detonated with a muffled thump, blowing the door inward. In the same moment, I squeezed the trigger.

The rifle bucked against my shoulder, the sound of the shot echoing through the barn. Through the scope, I watched Jenkins stagger backward, a red bloom spreading across his chest. He crumpled to the ground, motionless.

“Target down,” I reported, already shifting my aim toward the breach point where shadows moved in the smoke.

“Two more coming through the east breach,” Connor warned into the radio. “Mia’s engaging.”

I fired twice more in rapid succession, dropping the first figure that emerged from the smoke. The second dove for cover behind a stone planter, returning fire in my direction. Bullets splintered the wood around us as we ducked lower.

“They’ve spotted us,” he stated the obvious, pulling his own rifle forward. “We need to relocate.”

Before I could respond, a massive explosion rocked the main house, the shock wave rattling the barn windows. Through the smoke, I could see flames licking at the west wing of the house.

“Main house, report!” Connor shouted into the radio, his voice tight with fear.

Static hissed for several agonizing seconds before Rory’s voice came through. “Secondary team breached the west wing. They had heavier weapons than expected. Declan’s pinned down in the study. Two of our men are down.”

“Wren?” Connor demanded, his knuckles white around the radio.

“Safe in the control room,” Rory confirmed. “But they’re pushing hard toward the study. I think they know where the book is.”

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