CHAPTER 156
The cold mountain air bit at my face as I walked across the monastery courtyard toward the armed men who'd positioned themselves around the terrified children. My hands were raised in surrender, but underneath my loose jacket, Lucas's improvised explosive device pressed against my ribs like a promise of vengeance.
We'd had thirty seconds to plan, and the plan was necessarily simple: I surrender myself to draw Henry's people into close proximity, then detonate the device that would eliminate his ground forces while the guys used the chaos to extract the children and escape through the catacombs.
The only flaw in the plan was that it required me to be at ground zero when the explosives went off.
"That's far enough," one of Henry's soldiers called when I was about ten meters from the children. "Hands behind your head, get on your knees."
"I'm seven months pregnant," I said calmly. "Getting on my knees isn't exactly comfortable."
"Do it anyway."
I lowered myself carefully to the ground, feeling our daughter kick in protest at the awkward position. Around me, I counted at least eight heavily armed men, all positioned exactly where we'd hoped they'd be when Lucas's device activated.
"Grandfather," I called out, knowing Henry was monitoring communications from somewhere nearby. "I'm here. Release the children."
"All in good time, dear child. First, we need to discuss the terms of your cooperation."
Of course. Henry wasn't content with simple surrender - he wanted psychological dominance, wanted me to acknowledge his authority before he'd honor any agreements. It was exactly the kind of ego-driven mistake that could be exploited.
"What terms?" I asked, though I was really buying time for the guys to get into position.
"You will provide strategic and tactical support for my organization's expansion into legitimate enterprises. You will use your UN connections to provide intelligence on law enforcement activities. And most importantly, you will raise your daughter to understand her place in the Mitchell family legacy."
"And in exchange?"
"In exchange, these children live. Your three devoted companions are allowed to continue their pathetic humanitarian work unmolested. And you get to watch your daughter grow up instead of dying here in this courtyard."
I could see Agent Martinez's daughter in the group of hostages, maybe twelve years old, trying to comfort a younger boy who was crying for his parents. The sight made my chest tight with rage, but I forced myself to remain calm.
"Tempting offer," I said. "But I have a counter-proposal."
"You're hardly in a position to negotiate."
"Aren't I? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you need me alive and cooperative. Otherwise, you would have just killed me and taken my daughter when she's born."
Through my earpiece, I could hear Harry's voice giving quiet updates on their progress through the building. They were almost in position to extract the children, but they needed another minute to bypass the security systems on the catacomb entrance.
"What's your proposal?" Henry asked, curiosity overriding caution.
"I'll work with you. I'll provide intelligence, strategic support, even help train the next generation of your organization. But I want guarantees about the treatment of innocent people, and I want my team to have a say in operational planning."
"Absolutely not. You'll work under my direction, following my orders, or you'll watch these children die one by one."
I shifted position slightly, feeling Lucas's device press against my ribs. The motion sensor was armed and ready - all I had to do was trigger the activation sequence, and everyone within a fifteen-meter radius would be eliminated.
Including me and our unborn daughter.
"Last chance, Skylar," Henry's voice was losing patience. "Submit completely, or start choosing which child dies first."
Through my earpiece, I heard the signal I'd been waiting for: "Package secured, all targets clear for extraction."
Harry, Jax, and Lucas had reached the children and were preparing to move them to safety. Which meant it was time for the final part of our plan.
"You want to know what I learned from my father?" I called out, loud enough for all of Henry's men to hear. "I learned that sometimes the only way to stop a monster is to become something even worse."
I triggered the activation sequence.
The explosion that followed was smaller than I'd expected, more focused. Lucas had designed the device to create maximum damage in a specific radius while minimizing the blast effects beyond that zone. Professional, efficient, and absolutely lethal to anyone standing within the kill circle.
The shock wave knocked me flat, my ears ringing and vision blurred. Around me, Henry's ground forces were either dead or incapacitated, their tactical formation destroyed in an instant.
But as the smoke cleared, I realized something had gone wrong.
I was still alive.
Lucas's device had been configured to spare a small area directly beneath my position - a calculated risk that our daughter's survival was worth more than the certainty of eliminating every threat.
Which meant Henry was still out there, still dangerous, and now absolutely furious.
"Clever girl," his voice came through speakers mounted on the helicopter circling overhead. "But you've just demonstrated why the Mitchell family legacy is too valuable to waste on sentiment."
I struggled to my feet, my pregnancy making movement difficult after the blast. Around the courtyard, I could see Henry's surviving forces regrouping, calling for backup, preparing for a second assault.
"The children are safe," Harry's voice crackled through my damaged earpiece. "But we've got problems. More teams are approaching from multiple directions."
Through the smoke and chaos, I could see the monastery's ancient walls scarred by the explosion, could hear the distant sound of helicopters bringing reinforcements. Henry had planned for contingencies, prepared for exactly this kind of resistance.
But he'd made one critical error in his calculations.
He'd assumed that pregnancy would make me more cautious, more willing to compromise, more concerned with personal safety than mission success.
Instead, it had made me absolutely ruthless.
"Grandfather," I called into the smoke and rubble, "you're right about one thing. The Mitchell family legacy is too valuable to waste."
I pulled a second device from my jacket - not an explosive this time, but a transmitter that would broadcast our location and tactical situation to every law enforcement agency within five hundred kilometers.
"But you're wrong about who should control that legacy."
As sirens began wailing in the distance and military helicopters appeared on the horizon, I realized that this confrontation was about to become much larger than a family dispute.
It was about to become a war.
And I intended to win it.
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