Page 78 of Sanctuary

“We’re twenty minutes out,” Connor informed her, checking his watch. “Have your team maintain distance. Vance will have counter-surveillance measures in place.”

“Understood,” Winters replied. “There’s a vehicle waiting for you at a private hangar. Weapons and tactical gear are in the trunk.”

As the plane touched down, I felt a strange calm settle over me—the operational focus I’d relied on for years taking over, pushing emotions aside. This wasn’t just about saving my sister; it was about ending the last remnant of Matheson’s control over my life.

Connor must have sensed the shift in me. “Stay with me,” he said quietly, his hand covering mine. “Don’t disappear into assassin mode completely. We need Mia for this, not just Agent Shaw.”

I met his gaze, anchoring myself in the warmth and concern I found there. “I’m here,” I assured him. “Just... focused.”

“Good,” he replied. “Because I need your focus, but I also need your heart. The woman who loves her sister enough to risk everything—that’s who’s going to save Lily.”

The SUV was exactly where Winters had promised, keys under the floor mat and a duffel bag of equipment in the trunk. We changed quickly into tactical gear—black combat pants, Kevlar vests, communication earpieces. The weapons were top-grade military issue, including a sniper rifle similar to the one I’d used at the estate.

“Take the coastal road,” I directed as Connor started the engine. “It’s longer but less visible from the house.”

As we drove through the night, a light rain began to fall, misting the windshield and reducing visibility. Rather than a hindrance, I welcomed it—the weather would provide additional cover for our approach.

“Tell me about Lily,” Connor said, breaking the tense silence. “What should I know about her?”

The question caught me off guard, but I understood its purpose—keeping me connected to the personal stakes, to the sister I was fighting to save.

“She’s gentle,” I said after a moment. “Kind in a way that seems impossible in this world. She teaches kindergarten because she believes every child deserves a beautiful beginning.” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “She volunteers at an animal shelter on weekends. Reads poetry. Leaves flowers on strangers’ graves when she visits our mother’s.”

Connor nodded, his expression softening, a smile playing on his lips. “She sounds nothing like you.”

“No,” I agreed with a laugh. “She’s the person I might have been if Matheson hadn’t found me.” The thought sobered me. “That’s why I stayed away all these years. I couldn’t risk tainting her life with what I’d become.”

“And now?”

“Now I just want her to live,” I whispered. “Anything beyond that is a gift I don’t deserve but will cherish.”

We fell silent as the GPS indicated we were approaching our destination. Connor pulled off the road about a mile from the beach house, killing the headlights and engine. We’d rendezvous with Winters’ team here before making our final approach.

Two figures materialized from the shadows as we exited the vehicle— it had to be Ryker and Royal O’Toole, the twin brothers Declan had initially sent to protect Lily. They were disheveled, a testament to their frantic search efforts.

“No sign of forced entry at her apartment,” Ryker reported without preamble. “But we found this.”

He handed me a small envelope. Inside was a Polaroid photograph of Lily, unconscious but apparently unharmed, lying on what I recognized as the cellar floor of the beach house. Written across the bottom in neat block letters: FOR MIA - COME ALONE OR SHE DIES.

“Classic Vance,” I muttered, passing the photo to Connor. “Making sure I know exactly where to find them.”

“It’s a trap,” Royal stated unnecessarily.

“Of course it is,” I agreed. “But it’s also our only option.”

A dark SUV pulled up silently behind us, and Agent Winters emerged with three tactical team members. She approached briskly, professional as always despite the late hour and dismal weather.

“Thermal imaging confirms two heat signatures still in the house,” she reported. “The stationary one hasn’t moved from the cellar. The other is primarily on the main floor, occasionally checking the cellar.”

“Any sign of explosives or other traps?” Connor asked.

“We haven’t been able to get close enough for a good look without risking him seeing us,” Winters admitted. “But our long-range equipment picked up unusual wiring around the perimeter.”

I nodded grimly. “He’ll have motion sensors at minimum, probably connected to explosives on a dead man’s switch. If he detects anyone but me approaching...”

“Then you go in alone,” Connor said, his voice tight with controlled fear. “As bait.”

“While you set up a sniper position here,” I confirmed, pointing to a ridge overlooking the property. “If you can get a clean shot through one of the beach-facing windows, take it. Don’t wait for my signal.”

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