Page 121 of Beyond Protection
The closet door stood open. I knew I'd left it closed. My duffel bag's zipper faced the wrong direction.
I started to breathe faster.
Then the scent hit me—perfume. Floral mixed with chemical-sweet. No one in Ma's house wore that.
It was someone else's perfume. I turned and found a white envelope propped against the pillow. My name was written in careful script.
Cormac
She'd been here. In Ma's house. In my room. Had touched my things and left her scent like a signature.
My hands shook as I reached for it—expensive paper with a linen texture.
Inside, a card. Her handwriting.
Wrong approach. The market was theater, not truth. You surrounded yourself with strangers and called it protection. But protection means isolation, means proper conditions, means removing damaging elements. Come alone to the address below, December 18th at sunset, or they all burn. Your choice. Your family's lives. Tick tock. —V.K.
It was a Concrete, Washington address.
Come alone, or they all burn.
The card slipped from my fingers.
I heard footsteps on the stairs. Eamon called my name.
I couldn't answer. I stood staring at the proof Vanessa Kensington had been in my room.
Eamon entered the room. "Mac? What's wrong?"
I gestured toward the bed.
He crossed in three strides. Picked up the card and read it.
His jaw dropped, and then he looked at me.
"Sit down," he said quietly.
"She was here. In this room—"
"Mac. Sit."
I lowered myself onto the edge of the bed.
Eamon knelt. Put his hands on my knees.
"Look at me."
I followed his request.
"You're not going alone. Ever. Understand?"
"She said—"
"I don't care what she said. We're raiding the cabin tomorrow night. We're ending this before December eighteenth even arrives."
"But what if—"
"There's no what if. We breach, we clear, and we take her into custody. That's the plan."
