Chapter 84 - Infiltration of the Outer Perimeter
A sudden blast echoed from the driveway, sharp and concussive.
Cassidy froze. That wasn't a tectonic rupture. That was high-explosive breaching cord.
On the security monitor mounted above the main door, the external camera feeds flickered to life. Two matte-black tactical transport vehicles had smashed through the wooden perimeter gates of the Vance property. Men in unmarked, pressurized deep-dive hazard suits were pouring out of the rear doors, carrying short-barreled assault rifles and hydraulic concrete drills.
"They're not just hacking the system," Cassidy realized, her blood running cold. "She sent a ground unit."
"Did you think I'd leave the anchor's destruction to a digital countdown?" Valerie’s voice whispered over the speaker, sounding closer now, as if the transmission were coming from just beyond the tree line. "My retrieval team is securing the primary bedrock manifold. You've served your purpose, Cassidy. You paid the bills, you kept the manifold alive until the tectonic stress reached critical mass, and now... you're surplus inventory."
The heavy front door of the Vance homestead splintered inward under the impact of a hydraulic ram.
Cassidy didn't hesitate. She had lived in this house for twenty-four years; she knew every squeaking floorboard, every hidden panel, and every forgotten service shaft her father had constructed to hide the corporation's secrets from municipal inspectors.
She reached beneath the desk, grabbed the emergency tactical flare kit and the heavy steel crowbar she had used when renovating the kitchen cabinets, and slipped into the recessed pantry behind the dining room.
Two armed men stepped through the pulverized remains of the front entryway, their rifle-mounted tac-lights cutting through the thick dust.
"Clear the foyer," a man’s gravelly voice barked through a radio respirator. "Terminal is in the study. Plant the charges on the bedrock anchor plates. Valerie wants the entire foundation uncoupled within ninety seconds."
"What about the girl?" the second operative asked, his boots crunching over the shattered glass of the dining room window.
"If she’s breathing, put two in her chest. No loose genetic material."
From the shadows of the pantry, Cassidy gripped the steel crowbar until her palms ached. For years, she had felt weak, crushed by the suffocating weight of Eleanor’s emotional manipulation, Donald’s infantile sneering, and the impossible financial burden of a house she didn't even own.
May you like
She wasn't that girl anymore.
She slammed her shoulder into the hidden service latch behind the pantry shelving. The false wall swung open, and Cassidy dropped into the maintenance crawlspace beneath the main floor just as a volley of automatic fire shredded the wooden pantry door behind her.
