The high-tech security room felt like a cold, digital tomb. The only light in the room came from the flickering monitors, casting a ghostly blue glow over my trembling hands. I sat hunched over the main terminal, my eyes glued to the red dot pulsing on the screen the GPS signal from the device tucked into Toby’s blanket. It was moving toward the dark edge of the estate.
On another screen, I watched Silas. He moved through the estate’s vineyard like a shadow, silent and lethal. He had discarded his tuxedo jacket somewhere along the way; his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, glowing faintly in the moonlight as he sprinted through the rows of grapevines.
“Silas, he’s nearing the boathouse,” I whispered into the comms, my voice cracking with a mixture of terror and desperation.
