Chapter 5 - The Silent Trap
By ten o'clock that evening, a dense, heavy fog had rolled off the Atlantic coast, blanketing the Moretti estate in a thick shroud of gray.
Inside the main mansion, the lights were dimmed to simulate a quiet, sleeping household. The kitchen staff and non-essential personnel had been evacuated to a secure off-site location hours earlier under the guise of an unscheduled maintenance weekend.
In the second-floor master suite, Allie sat on the edge of a velvet couch, holding Lily in her lap. Lily had finally fallen fast asleep, clutching her one-eyed stuffed rabbit tightly to her chest.
Standing by the curtained window was Marco, one of Murphy's most trusted personal bodyguards—a taciturn man who held an silenced submachine gun across his chest.
"Are you sure we're safe here?" Allie asked Marco in a hushed whisper, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Ms. Carter," Marco replied without looking away from the window, his voice as calm as still water. "Mr. Moretti has spent fifteen years securing this estate. Nobody enters or leaves without his permission. You and the girl are safer in this room than in a military bunker."
Downstairs in the central command room—hidden behind a sliding bookshelf in the library—Murphy stood before a bank of high-definition security monitors with Dominic and three technical specialists.
On the screens, live thermal camera feeds showed the eastern perimeter fence of the estate.
"Boss," Dominic pointed to a red thermal cluster moving slowly through the tree line beyond the outer wall. "Three unmarked SUVs just pulled off the county road. No headlights. Eighteen men on foot carrying short-barrel automatic rifles."
"Did they cut the wire on the eastern gate?" Murphy asked calmly.
"Right on schedule," Dominic confirmed with a grin. "They think our security team is on a shift rotation. They're moving through the rose garden right now toward the conservatory entrance."
"Who is leading them?"
Dominic zoomed in on a high-resolution night-vision feed.
At the front of the tactical line walked a broad, heavily built man in a dark leather coat. His face was weathered, featuring a thin mustache and cold, arrogant eyes. Victor Sosa.
"He came in person," Dominic noted, his tone turning serious. "He must be truly desperate for that drive."
"Desperation makes powerful men foolish," Murphy stated, standing up straight. "Is the jammer active?"
"Blockaded all cellular, satellite, and radio frequencies within a two-mile radius," the tech specialist reported. "Sosa's team is completely dark. They can't call for backup, and they can't broadcast out."
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Murphy pulled a pair of dark leather gloves onto his hands, his expression completely tranquil yet terrifyingly focused.
"Let them reach the grand foyer," Murphy ordered smoothly. "I want Victor to feel the full satisfaction of victory before he realizes he's inside a coffin."
