Chapter 3
I didn't wake Ryan.
I didn't pack a bag.
I grabbed my gear—the heavy,
unmarked tactical vest,
the ceramic plating,
the spare magazines—and began the final fortification.
If they were coming for me,
they would have to walk through the mouth of hell to get there.
I spent the next six hours turning the cedar cottage into a fortress.
I wired the perimeter with trip-mines,
not for lethal intent,
but for tactical awareness.
I installed a low-frequency jammer on the roof,
a device that would fry any sensitive electronics within a hundred-yard radius.
By dawn,
the house looked normal from the outside,
but inside,
it was a coiled spring.
I sat on the sofa,
across from the still-sleeping form of my son,
watching the darkness retreat.
I was the shepherd of this little boy,
and I would not let the wolves take him.
The photograph sat on the floor,
a mocking reminder of my own ignorance.
My mentor...
the man I had mourned,
the man whose ghost had guided my conscience for years.
He was the architect of my survival.
Was he also the architect of my pain?
I didn't know.
I didn't have the luxury of knowing.
All I knew was the mission.
Protect the boy.
Burn the network.
A vehicle slowed on the road outside.
Not a van this time,
but a sleek,
black sedan that matched the descriptions I’d seen in the old records of the "Shadow Agency."
The engine cut out.
Doors opened.
Four figures emerged,
their silhouettes cutting through the morning mist like razors.
They wore no masks.
They had no need for them.
They weren't afraid of being seen,
because they were certain no one would live to report it.
I stood up,
sliding the vest over my shoulders,
feeling the familiar weight of the hardware.
I walked to the kitchen,
where I had set up the console that Logan left behind.
I watched them on the monitors,
their movements fluid and aggressive.
They weren't here to negotiate.
They were here to erase a variable.
I checked my watch.
The sun was hitting the treetops.
It was time for the lesson to begin.
"Ryan,"
I called out,
my voice calm,
devoid of the fear that threatened to tear me apart.
"Wake up,
buddy.
Time to play hide and seek."
He stirred,
rubbing his eyes,
looking at me with an innocence that was the only reason I was still breathing.
I didn't explain the threat.
I didn't tell him about the shadow agency or the lies of the past.
I just pointed to the secret trapdoor beneath the pantry floor.
"Down there,
Ryan.
Lock it from the inside.
Don't come out until you hear the song."
He nodded,
his eyes wide,
trusting me implicitly,
and scrambled into the dark.
I watched the latch click shut,
the last line of defense,
and I turned to face the door.
May you like
The wolves were at the gates.
The shepherd was ready.
