Page 79 of The Thief
The door opens before we can knock, revealing a dark-haired woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile.
"You must be Alastríona," she says. "I'm Jessica. Come in, both of you. I've been dying to meet the woman who's got Freddie tied in knots."
I like her immediately.
Today might be the day everything changes. But for now, walking into Stephen's house with Freddie's hand in mine, I feel like I might actually belong somewhere.
Like I might have found something worth fighting for.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
freddie
The first shot comes at exactly nine-thirty.
I'm positioned on the second floor of Henry's house, rifle ready, watching the grounds through night vision. Maverick's voice crackles through my earpiece.
"Movement on the north wall. Six men, armed, scaling the fence."
"Copy that. South side's clear."
"Emmanuel, what's your position?"
"Kitchen. Ready to move."
The plan's simple. Let Trace's men breach the perimeter, get them inside where we control the terrain, then cut them down. Sullivan disabled the real security system an hour ago and replaced it with our own. As far as Trace knows, we're sitting ducks.
He's wrong.
"Here they come," Stephen says. "Front entrance. Four men with breaching charges."
The explosion rattles the windows. Smoke billows through the front hall as armed figures pour through the gap. Professional, coordinated, exactly what Sullivan promised.
But something feels off. These men are moving too cautiously, too methodically. Like they're expecting resistance.
"Taking fire," Maverick reports from the east wing. "Three down, more coming."
I look down my rifle and pick my targets. The first man drops with a bullet through his chest. The second spins and falls, clutching his shoulder. The third dives for cover behind Henry's expensive furniture.
The Gallaghers are holding their positions, giving as good as they get. Denis has turned the library into a killing ground. Malcolm's got the dining room locked down. Danny's covering the stairs.
But where's the main assault? Sullivan said Trace would bring twelve men, hit us with everything he had. This feels like a probing attack, not the all-out war we were expecting.
"Movement in the garden," Emmanuel calls out. "Two more coming through the greenhouse."
I shift position, tracking the targets through my scope. Easy shots, both of them. They drop without firing a round.
"That's eight down," Stephen says. "Where are the rest?"
Good question. We've been fighting for ten minutes, and it's been almost too easy. These men are trained, but they're not Trace's best. They're expendable.
Which means this is a distraction.
"Fuck," I breathe into my mic. "This isn't the real attack."
"What?"
"This is a diversion. Trace isn't here."
