Chapter 8 - THE WOLF'S DEN.
The winding mountain road was entirely unlit, a treacherous ribbon of asphalt cutting through dense, ancient pine trees.
I drove the stolen mercenary vehicle with the headlights entirely blacked out, relying on the faint glow of the dashboard and sheer instinct.
The Blackwood Estate sat at the very peak, surrounded by twenty-foot high electrified concrete walls and state-of-the-art thermal sensors.
I parked the truck three miles down the mountain, knowing the vehicle's engine noise would alert the perimeter patrols.
The rest of the approach had to be done on foot, moving through the dense, freezing forest like a shadow.
The temperature dropped drastically at this altitude, and the biting wind whipped through the trees, masking the sound of my approach.
I moved from cover to cover, my eyes scanning the dark woods for the telltale green glow of thermal cameras.
My mother’s paranoia was legendary, and she had turned this mountain into a literal death trap.
After an hour of grueling, silent hiking, the massive concrete walls of the estate loomed through the tree line.
Two armed guards were patrolling the perimeter fence, accompanied by a massive, highly trained attack dog.
I knelt behind the trunk of a massive oak tree, calculating their patrol route and timing their rotations.
Taking them out with my pistol would be too risky; the dog would alert the rest of the compound before it fell.
I needed a distraction, something that would draw their attention away from the blind spot in the camera coverage.
I picked up a heavy, jagged rock from the freezing mud and threw it hard toward the brush on the opposite side of their path.
The rock crashed through the dead branches, snapping twigs with a loud, unnatural crack.
The dog immediately stopped, its ears pinning back as a low, vicious growl rumbled from its throat.
The guards raised their rifles, clicking on their high-powered flashlights and sweeping the beams toward the noise.
"Check it out, quiet approach," one guard whispered to the other, unclipping the dog's leash.
As they moved toward the distraction, their backs turned completely toward my position in the darkness.
I broke from cover, sprinting silently across the damp pine needles, completely bypassing the guards.
I reached the base of the concrete wall, pulling a specialized grappling hook from the tactical gear I had confiscated at the docks.
The padded prongs of the hook caught the top of the wall without making a sound, bypassing the electrified wire grid.
I hauled myself up the heavy nylon rope, my muscles burning with lactic acid, pulling myself over the high concrete ledge.
I dropped onto the manicured lawn of the interior compound, instantly melting into the shadows of a sculpted hedgerow.
The estate was massive, a sprawling modern mansion of glass and steel that looked like a supervillain's command center.
Floodlights bathed the courtyard in bright white light, and teams of mercenaries patrolled the grounds with terrifying precision.
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I checked my weapon, taking a slow, deep breath to steady my racing heart.
I was inside the wolf's den, and there was no way out but through them.
