The villa was too quiet. It wasn't the peaceful silence of a retreat; it was the held breath of a trap. I stood in the main hallway, watching the security team move through the house like ghosts. They were checking walls, outlets, light fixtures, and the underside of furniture. Sarah was in the command center—a temporary setup in the library where monitors displayed feeds from the twelve external cameras and the thermal sensors lining the perimeter. Marcus was with Eleanor in the secure wing, a room with no windows and reinforced doors. I wasn't allowed in there during the sweep. It was protocol. If there was a biological threat or a gas leak, I needed to be outside the contamination zone. But it felt like exile. I was the target, yet I was being kept away from the prize.
David called at
