Page 109 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"Backup power coming on in three seconds." The emergency systems activate automatically as I speak.
Cole moves immediately, grabbing battery packs for essential equipment. "Keeping communications and surveillance working first."
Jax flicks his light on, lighting his face from below in dramatic shadows. "Think of this as rehearsal for tonight. If thepower goes out during the gala, at least we'll know who screams first." His eyes drift toward Vanessa with that familiar smirk.
"Stay on mission, not useless comments." My controlled irritation comes through clearly.
The emergency lights activate throughout the house, casting everything in dim blue light. Vanessa hasn't moved from her position at the main display, her attention remaining absolute despite the chaos around her.
The power outage seems to trigger something in her brain—her movements become measured and controlled in a way they rarely are normally. Her usual constant motion settles into purposeful efficiency.
"If the storm affects our communications during the operation, we'll need backup systems here, here, and here." She calmly highlights specific points on the digital map. "I've already planned alternative channels that should work even with the bad weather."
Kade leans forward, studying her analysis. "How long to get everything ready?"
"Two hours to get it all working together." Her response comes without hesitation.
I move closer to her position, automatically placing myself between her and the rest of the team. From here, I can watch both her progress and keep an eye on all the room's entry points at the same time.
Throughout the planning session, I keep recalculating distances and potential threats: How far is Vanessa from the nearest exit? How quickly could I reach any danger? Where are team members in relation to their assigned positions? The variables keep changing, requiring constant mental adjustment to maintain optimal security.
Why am I calculating protection plans for team members who aren't designated protectees?
Kade catches my eye from across the room during a pause in discussion. His expression reveals nothing to the others, but the subtle assessment is clear. He's caught my adjusted positioning, my frequent glances toward Vanessa, my changed patrol behavior around the room.
The digital clock shows 11:46 PM. The storm shows no sign of letting up.
Kade closes his folder with decisive finality. "We need rest before the mission. Teams of two will monitor weather in four-hour shifts. Cole and I will take first watch. Jax and Xander handle second shift. Cross, you and Vanessa take final monitoring shift before we meet again at 8:00 AM."
The team disperses efficiently toward assigned rest areas throughout the house. Cole heads upstairs, his heavy footsteps echoing on the hardwood stairs as he makes his way to the second-floor office where he can monitor communications from the elevated position.
The tactical planning room will give him clear sightlines to all approaches while maintaining contact with HQ.
Kade moves toward the basement level, descending the steel stairs to the underground secure command post, reinforced walls providing natural protection while keeping him close to the weapons vault if needed.
Jax claims the side nook near the concealed exit to the yard, positioning himself where he has quick access to hidden weapon caches. Xander heads toward the stairs, most likely taking the third floor.
Vanessa gathers her essential equipment and moves into the kitchen, setting up her portable workstation on the waterfall island. The kitchen keeps her tech work separate from the main display. Her fingers continue flying across her laptop as she fine-tunes the security bypass protocols.
The house settles into watchful quiet, each team member positioned strategically throughout the three-story structure, turning my home into a fortress with overlapping fields of observation and protection.
"You should try to get some rest." I position myself near the display to monitor her work.
She doesn't look up from her rapid typing. "Can't shut down right now. Brain's running too many processes at once."
"Vanessa." I place my hand on the counter near hers, close enough to feel her warmth but not actually touching. "Tomorrow's mission requires you to be at your best mentally."
She finally looks up at me, her expression somewhere between irritation and affection, in a way that creates uncomfortable feelings I'm not equipped to handle.
"Is that your tactical way of saying you're worried about me?"
The honest answer to her question scares me more than any combat situation I've ever faced. I default to my standard assessment approach.
"It's my way of saying I've calculated every variable I can control. Your rest falls within that category."
"And me personally?" Her voice softens. "Do I fall within your controllable category, too?"
Before today, I would have had an immediate, exact response based on established protocols. Now, I'm completely without words, trying to process feelings that don't translate into tactical language or math formulas.
