Chapter 12
My breath caught in my throat.
They knew Ethan was here.
They knew exactly where we were sitting.
"James," I whispered, showing him the glowing screen.
James looked at the message, his expression hardening into stone.
"It’s a localized satellite override," he said, his eyes scanning the treeline.
"They aren't here to kill us yet."
"If they wanted to do that, they would have thrown a flashbang through the window."
"They want to talk."
I looked back at Claire. She was holding Ethan so tightly against her chest it looked like she was trying to fuse him to her own body.
Detective Collins had her service weapon drawn, shielding them with her torso.
"I'm going out there," I said.
"Daniel, no," Claire begged, her voice cracking in the dark. "Don't leave us."
"I have to, Claire. They have the house surrounded. If I don't walk out that door, they’ll come in through the windows."
"I won't let them near you or Ethan."
James stepped up beside me.
"I'm right behind you, Captain. If a single hand moves toward a weapon, I drop the driver."
I nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath.
I walked to the heavy oak front door, disengaged the manual deadbolt, and pulled it open.
The cold mountain air hit my face again, smelling heavily of pine and diesel exhaust.
The black SUV stood in the driveway, its engine idling with a low, menacing purr.
The tint on the windows was so dark it looked like a solid block of obsidian.
Slowly, the rear passenger door clicked open.
A man stepped out into the moonlight.
He didn't look like a shadow operative.
He wore a tailored wool coat, a grey scarf, and moved with a slight, rhythmic limp, leaning on a silver-headed cane.
His hair was completely white, cropped close in a military style.
He looked older, weathered by time, but his eyes were sharp and piercing.
He looked exactly like the older version of the man in my father’s photograph.
General Arthur Vance.
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"Daniel," he said, his voice deep and raspy, like grinding stones.
"You look just like your father."
