Chapter 15 - The Barn Ambush
I didn't turn on the house lights. Instead, I slipped out through the side storm door into the cool, shadowed embrace of the Georgia night, moving like a phantom across the dew-soaked grass. My years in the Hindu Kush mountains had taught me how to read the terrain in pitch darkness, turning night into an ally.
The two intruders reached the back porch, prying at the screen door with a heavy iron crowbar.
"Make it quick," one of them hissed in a low, raspy whisper. "Vance wants the hard drives from the study destroyed before the federal audit team executes the second wave of warrants tomorrow morning. If there's any paper trail linking us to his offshore accounts, we’re all doing federal time."
So Marcus Vance was trying to scrub the remaining evidence before the final hammer fell. He had hired professional fixers to break into my family’s home under cover of darkness.
I crept silently behind the first operative, moving with absolute zero acoustic signature. Before he could realize I was there, my forearm locked around his throat in a textbook chokehold, applying precise pressure to his carotid artery. He went limp in three seconds without a sound, sliding softly down into the tall grass.
The second operative spun around, raising a heavy tactical flashlight and drawing a sidearm from his waistband.
"Hey, Miller—" he started to bark, but before he could clear his holster, I closed the distance in an explosive burst, sweeping his legs out from under him and driving him hard into the gravel. The heavy steel of my combat boot pinned his wrist to the dirt, forcing his weapon to fly out of his hand into the bushes.
"Who sent you?" I demanded, pressing the edge of my knife against his throat just enough to draw a single bead of crimson. "Vance?"
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The mercenary gasped for air, his eyes wide with stark terror as he stared up into my face in the moonlight. "Yeah! Vance! He paid us twenty grand cash to break in and wipe the study hard drives! We didn't know you were home! Please, man, don't kill me!"
"You picked the wrong house to break into," I whispered, applying just enough pressure to make him choke. "Tell Marcus Vance that his game is over. And if he ever sends another rat to my property, I won't call the federal marshals next time—I’ll handle it myself."
