Page 144 of Stars in Umbra
The vessel banked to the left.
Mirage activated the stealth glide, the ship falling into a near-silent hover as she cloaked them with a swipe of her fingers.
‘This is it,’ she murmured, bringing the ship’s holo screen to life.
Intel feeds flickered into view, with schematics, thermal overlays, and pulse-mapped terrain.
‘Ten thousand acres of curated remoteness,’ Mirage continued. ‘Where grandeur meets isolation. The castle has its own private beach, tennis courts, three pools, and outhouses. Plus a spa and gym. Even an internal magrail for transport between the wings. It’s a citadel, with enough surveillance redundancy to put most defense compounds to shame.’
She zoomed in on a cluster of structures nestled near the estate’s core. ‘They don’t host guests often. Additionally, they don’t do rentals; the estate is reserved for the Thrall family. Caidan, his wife Raina, and their four children.’
Mo leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes narrowed. ‘Weak points?’
Mirage gave a small, grim smile. ‘A few. Their security’s top-tier, but patterned. I identified a shift rotation every few hours. Eight guards are assigned to each sector, primarily stationed on the perimeter. Inner wings are wrapped in motion sensors, which are passive and not reactive. It means they expect to know who’s inside at all times. Internal sensors are heavier near the west wing, likely the primary residence.’
All day, they hovered above, cloaked and silent, running long-range scans and tracking patrol rhythms.
They logged everything: entry routes, power sources, and security guard shifts.
Mo slipped into surveillance mode with disturbing ease.
His killer intellect could catalog every vulnerability, each blind spot.
He remembered a few of his Six Flaco’s old missions as the sun crawled across the sky.
The kills. The aftermath. The breathless deaths and ice-cold orders.
Fokk. Guilt gnawed at him.
Not just for what he’d done, but for how good he’d been at it.
He glanced at Rina, who was hunched over the recon scope, silent.
Her presence soothed him, but it also deepened the ache inside his soul.
A suffocating remorse clenched his chest.
The Riders might have offered him their absolution, as Rina had, but he wasn’t sure he might ever accept it.
He doubted he would ever find it in himself to forgive, let alone forget, the man he once was.
He shoved the thought away, burying it deep beneath the mission’s demands, a dark corner of his mind where he’d deal with his crippling self-recrimination later.
Then her hand found his.
He glanced up to meet Rina’s eyes and melted at the warm compassion within.
Shea didn’t say anything for a long time; she only curled her fingers around his, firm and steady.
‘Baby, redemption,’ she murmured, ‘doesn’t come from what you did. It comes from how you choose to live next.’
He jolted, startled by how well she’d read his mind, then kissed the back of her hand in appreciation.
He was grateful for the wisdom with which she spoke and recognized the quiet truth in her gaze.
It was not based on blind hope, nor effortless grace.
It appeared to come from a conviction forged in fire.
