Chapter 37 - The Uninvited Guest
The amber light on the security dome wasn’t a red combat alert, nor was it a yellow perimeter warning. It was a restricted visitor handshake—a low-frequency encrypted ping sent from a single authorized civilian vehicle approaching the private estate gates along the mountain pass road.
“That’s impossible,” Ethan muttered, his fingers flying across the console to pull up the external gate camera feed. “Every federal agency, every private contractor, and every syndicate remnant has been neutralized or frozen. Nobody knows we’re back here, let alone our exact gate frequency.”
I stood up slowly from my desk, my hand instinctively drifting toward the concealed holster beneath my sweater before I stopped myself. I had promised myself that the war was over.
“Pull up the camera feed, Ethan,” I said calmly.
On the main monitor, the heavy iron security gates slowly swung open. A dusty, nondescript silver sedan rolled up the winding driveway and parked neatly beside the front stone steps of the villa.
The driver’s door opened, and a woman stepped out into the crisp morning air. She wore a simple trench coat, her dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, carrying a battered leather briefcase.
Even through the grain of the security camera, I recognized her instantly. It was Sarah Vance—Michael Vance’s estranged younger sister and a senior archivist for the International Court of Justice in The Hague, whom I hadn't seen or spoken to since before my dismissal from active duty.
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“Sarah?” Ethan said, his voice laced with confusion as he looked from the screen to me. “What is she doing here? She’s been stationed in Europe for the past six years.”
“She didn’t come here for a social visit,” I replied, walking toward the heavy oak front doors. “People like Sarah don’t cross an ocean unless the ground beneath them is already burning.”
