Chapter 173
Chapter 173:
“Intruder Alert,” a robotic voice announced cheerfully from the ceiling speakers.
The lead thug — a man with a scar running through his eyebrow — stepped into the living room and kicked over a vase. It shattered.
“Check the bedrooms,” he ordered.
Miles away, in the basement of the safe house, Aron sat before a bank of monitors. He adjusted his glasses. The blue glow of the screens reflected in his lenses.
“Guests,” Aron said.
Davy, sitting beside him with a bag of chips, grinned — a wicked grin, full of missing teeth and malice.
“Can I deploy the Sonic Scramble?” he asked, bouncing in his chair.
Aron typed a command sequence. “Authorized p>
In the penthouse, a low, sub-audible hum began to emanate from the hidden speakers in the walls. It was a frequency engineered to cause intense nausea and disorientation.
𝗥еа𝗱 𝘸𝘪𝗍𝘩o𝗎𝘁 і𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗋𝗋𝘂p𝗍і𝗈n𝘴 𝗈𝗇
The lead thug paused. “You guys feel that? My head is spinning p>
He took another step, and the frequency spiked. A wave of vertigo crashed over him. He staggered, clutching his forehead, and vomited onto the expensive rug.
“What the hell!” Thug 2 spun around, yanking a gun from his waistband.
“Nightfall Protocol,” Aron said into his headset.
The smart home system killed every light. The apartment plunged into absolute darkness. Automated steel security shutters slammed down over the windows with a deafening clang.
Whirrrr.
A drone lifted off from the bookshelf, buzzing like an angry hornet.
“I can’t see!” Thug 3 yelled.
The drone hovered above them. Hiss. Hiss. Hiss. Targeted streams of a fast-acting sedative gas shot from the modified mechanism beneath it — not pepper spray, but a knockout agent.
Chaos erupted.
“I’m feeling… sleepy p>
“Shoot it! Shoot the drone p>
A single gunshot flashed in the dark, destroying a lamp and shattering the television, but the drone was too fast. It zipped around their heads, herding them like cattle until, one by one, they slumped to the floor and went still.
Kegan stood behind Aron’s chair, watching the feed. His face was a mask of stone.
He leaned closer. On the high-definition monitor, he spotted a patch on the jacket of the thug still twitching on the floor — a private security firm logo. Titan Security. A subsidiary of English Holdings.
Something in Kegan’s expression went darker than Cailin had ever seen it.
“They dared to enter your home,” he whispered. “Where the children sleep p>
“Did we do good, Uncle Kegan?” Davy asked, looking up.
Kegan placed a hand on Davy’s head. His touch was gentle — a stark contrast to the murder in his eyes.
“You did perfect,” he said. “Now it’s my turn p>
He walked out of the room, drawing his phone from his tactical vest.
“Prepare the convoy. And the armored SUV,” he ordered his lieutenant, Silas.
“Target?” Silas asked.
“The English Estate,” Kegan said. “Burn it to the ground p>
Cailin walked into the room. Her arm was bandaged, the white strip stark against her black shirt. She had heard him.