Page 66 of Sanctuary

Mia nodded. “Through the service corridor and up the back stairs. It bypasses the main conflict areas.”

“Go,” Rory said firmly. “I’ll hold this position, keep their attention focused here.”

I gripped his shoulder briefly. “Be careful.”

“You too,” he replied with a grim smile. “And Mia? Make that bastard pay.”

She gave him a sharp nod, her expression hardening into something cold and deadly. This was the assassin side of her—the trained killer that had been buried beneath the woman I’d fallen for. Now, I was grateful for both.

We slipped away, moving through the kitchen toward the service corridor. The sounds of battle faded slightly as we entered the narrow passageway, though the occasional explosion or burst of gunfire reminded us that the fight continued unabated.

“Connor,” Mia whispered as we approached the service stairs, “if Matheson is there, he won’t be alone. He’ll have his personal security detail—elite operatives, the best the agency has.”

“How many?”

“At least four,” she replied. “Possibly six if he’s feeling particularly cautious.”

I checked my weapon again, a habit born of anxiety and training. “That’s not great odds.”

A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I’ve faced worse.”

We ascended the stairs silently, each footfall carefully placed to avoid creaking boards. At the top, Mia paused, listening intently before signaling me forward. The second-floor hallway was eerily quiet compared to the chaos below—a pocket of calm in the storm.

Mia led the way, moving with the fluid grace of a predator as we approached the library. Outside the ornate double doors, she stopped, pressing her ear against the wood. After a moment, she held up five fingers—five people inside.

I nodded, understanding the challenge ahead. We were outnumbered, potentially outgunned. But we had surprise on our side, and something Matheson could never account for—the desperate determination of people fighting for family.

Mia caught my eye, mouthing silently: “On three.”

I nodded, positioning myself on the opposite side of the doorway. She counted down with her fingers—three, two, one—and we burst through the doors, weapons at the ready.

The library was dimly lit by a single desk lamp, creating pools of shadow among the towering bookshelves. Five figures turned at our entrance—four black-clad operatives who immediately reached for their weapons, and one older man seated calmly behind the antique desk.

Matheson.

Chapter 31

Connor

He sat there, his hands folded neatly on the desk before him, a laptop sitting off to the side.

“Amelia,” he said, his voice cultured and controlled. “How disappointing to find you in such... compromised company.”

The operatives had their weapons trained on us but hadn’t fired—waiting for Matheson’s command. I kept my gun steady, aiming at the closest threat while keeping Matheson in my peripheral vision.

“It’s over, Matheson,” Mia said, her voice cold and steady. “Call off your men.”

He smiled thinly. “I think not. You seem to have miscalculated the situation rather severely.” He gestured toward a laptop open on the desk beside him. “Would you like to see your sister? She’s quite comfortable for now.”

The screen showed a live feed of a woman—Lily, I presumed—sitting at what appeared to be a classroom desk, grading papers. She seemed completely unaware of the surveillance or the danger.

“She has approximately,” Matheson checked his watch with exaggerated care, “twenty minutes to live. Unless, of course, you complete your original assignment.”

Mia’s expression didn’t change, but I felt rather than saw the tension ripple through her. “You’re lying,” she said flatly. “Your men never made it to Vancouver.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Matheson’s face before he masked it. “A bluff, Amelia? How disappointing. I trained you better than that.”

“No bluff,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Your men were intercepted. Lily is under our protection now.”

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