Part 3
The stone wall felt cold against my palms,
as I crept along the eastern side of the house,
seeking an entry point that wasn't monitored.
The windows on the ground floor were tall,
outfitted with thick glass,
and reinforced iron frames.
Victor spared no expense to protect his stolen empire,
yet he forgot that every fortress,
has a hidden weakness.
I found it near the back terrace,
where a small basement window,
sat half-hidden behind a row of thick shrubs.
The window was old,
a remnant of the original structure,
and it lacked the modern sensors of the upper floors.
I knelt in the wet dirt,
the rain soaking through my suit,
but I felt nothing but the drive to move forward.
I pulled the steel crowbar from my belt,
wedging the flat edge beneath the wooden frame,
and applied steady,
gradual pressure.
The wood groaned against the metal,
a tiny sound that felt like a gunshot,
in the quiet night.
I froze,
listening for any sudden shouts,
or the sound of approaching boots.
Nothing came,
only the steady patter of rain,
and the distant rustle of leaves.
I pushed harder,
and with a sharp crack,
the old latch gave way completely.
I carefully lifted the window upward,
propping it open with a small piece of wood,
and peered into the pitch-black basement below.
The air drifting out was musty,
smelling of old coal,
and damp concrete.
I turned on my flashlight,
keeping the beam low and narrow,
illuminating a flight of wooden stairs.
I lowered myself through the opening,
feet first,
until my boots touched the solid floor.
I pulled the window shut behind me,
restoring the darkness,
and cutting off the sound of the storm.
I stood in the basement,
listening intently to the house above,
trying to map its layout from memory.
The floorboards overhead creaked slightly,
indicating movement on the main level,
likely the guards changing their shifts.
I moved forward,
keeping my flashlight pointed at the floor,
avoiding the old pipes,
and discarded furniture.
I found the main electrical breaker box,
mounted on the far wall,
its wires running like veins into the house.
I opened the metal door,
studying the neatly labeled switches,
searching for the one that controlled the security feeds.
If I cut the main power,
the backup generators would kick in instantly,
alerting Victor's tech team to a breach.
Instead,
I needed a surgical strike,
something that would disable the cameras,
without raising an immediate alarm.
I located the auxiliary line for the eastern wing,
the area where Lily was most likely kept,
and snipped the wire with my pliers.
A small spark flashed in the dark,
followed by a faint click from the ceiling above.
The cameras in that section were now blind,
feeding nothing but static,
to the security monitors in the front room.
They would think it was a glitch,
a minor issue caused by the storm,
giving me the window of time I needed.
I moved toward the basement stairs,
each step taken with deliberate caution,
avoiding the center of the wood where it might creak.
I reached the top door,
pressing my ear against the wood,
listening for the sound of life.
The hallway beyond was quiet,
save for the ticking of a grandfather clock,
somewhere in the distance.
I turned the brass doorknob,
slowly,
inch by inch,
until the latch released.
I slipped through the opening,
May you like
stepping onto the plush carpets,
and entered the inner sanctum of Haven Crest.
