Page 9 of A Ballad of Blackbirds and Betrayal (Dynamis Security #4)

Chapter Five

Sabrina crouched beside Nate in the shadow of an ornate garden trellis, the smell of climbing roses heavy in the still night air.

From their position, they had clear sight lines to both the conservatory’s glass walls and the side entrance to the study, along with the advantage of blending with the landscaping crew if spotted.

“You handled that well,” Nate said quietly, adjusting his surveillance equipment disguised as gardening tools. “Most people don’t stand their ground with Reaper.”

“I’m not most people,” Sabrina replied, focusing her binoculars on the conservatory windows. “And I don’t respond well to being sidelined.”

Nate’s soft chuckle carried genuine amusement. “I noticed. For what it’s worth, he’s not usually that protective of team members. We’re all expected to handle ourselves.”

Sabrina glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not a team member.”

“Aren’t you?” he countered, eyes never leaving his surveillance position. “You’re here, risking your career and possibly your life. Seems like team material to me.”

“Reaper approaching the estate main entrance now,” Cal reported through their earpieces.

Through her binoculars, Sabrina watched Atticus hand his invitation to the security detail. His transformation was remarkable—shoulders relaxed, hands open, his intensity masked beneath casual privilege.

“Senator just spotted him,” Jade noted from her elevated position. “Reaper is on his radar.”

The mansion’s interior revealed itself whenever the doors opened—crystal chandeliers, museum-quality art, and Dallas’s elite in formal attire.

“Our boy cleans up nice,” Eden commented, her voice barely audible through the comms as she circulated with a tray of drinks. “Every woman in the room just checked him out.”

“Focus, people,” Max reminded them, though amusement colored his voice.

“Mitchell approaching,” Cal warned. “Intercept in three, two…”

Senator Mitchell moved through the crowd with ease—tall, silver-haired, radiating the confidence of someone accustomed to power. He extended his hand to Atticus, clapping his shoulder in false familiarity.

“Atticus,” Mitchell’s voice came through the concealed mic. “I was beginning to think you’d never accept one of my invitations. It’s been too long.”

“Senator,” Atticus replied, his voice betraying none of his hatred. “It’s never worked out with my schedule. I was more fortunate this year.”

“Business keeping you busy? Dynamis is expanding into new territories, I hear.”

“Always,” Atticus replied. “I hear you’ve got your fingers in some upcoming projects I might be interested in as well.”

Mitchell laughed. “Always the businessman. Come, there are some people you should meet. Supporters of my healthcare initiatives who might benefit from your expertise.”

Sabrina shifted position, maintaining visual contact as Mitchell guided Atticus deeper into the gathering.

“That’s Dr. Elaine Cho near the east windows,” Sabrina said, recognizing the woman in burgundy speaking with a balding man.

“BioGenix research director. She shut down my inquiries with legal threats.” Her pulse quickened.

“Her presence confirms Mitchell’s discussing the bioweapon tonight.

She came to BioGenix from USAMRIID—they study the world’s deadliest pathogens.

“Mitchell’s introducing them now,” she continued, watching through her binoculars. “Their body language indicates prior acquaintance.”

“Mics picking up conversation,” Cal confirmed. “Recording and analyzing.”

“Moving to secondary position,” Nate murmured. “Need better angle on the south entrance. Stay here and maintain visual surveillance. If approached, you’re checking soil moisture.”

She nodded, watching Nate melt into the garden shadows with fluid grace. The team operated with synchronized efficiency born of years together, anticipating each other’s moves without explicit communication.

After twenty minutes, Atticus’s voice came through the comms, pitched low enough only someone beside him would hear.

“Mitchell’s moving toward the study with two men. Asian features, expensive suits, minimal security. Possible Korean delegation. Dr. Cho is joining them.”

“Running facial recognition,” Cal replied. “Nightshade, visual confirmation?”

“On it,” Eden whispered. “Moving near the study entrance.”

“I’m following them,” Atticus said. “Need to get closer.”

Sabrina watched Mitchell lead his group through a side door to his private study. Atticus lingered near the doorway, appearing to admire a painting while observing their movements.

“Security pattern indicates a two-minute window,” Jade reported. “North corridor guard just checked in, won’t make another round for approximately five minutes.”

“Nightshade, create a distraction at the east hallway,” Atticus directed. “I need thirty seconds.”

“Copy that,” Eden confirmed.

Moments later, a crash and exclamations came through the comms.

“Security shifting to investigate,” Cal reported. “You’re clear, but it’s tight.”

Sabrina’s pulse quickened as she realized Atticus was attempting direct access to Mitchell’s study. She adjusted her binoculars to focus on the second-floor windows, confirming the space was temporarily empty.

“I have access to the study,” Atticus reported. “Empty for now, but Mitchell and company will return shortly. Going silent until they leave. All comms hold unless emergency.”

Silence dominated the communication channel. Through her binoculars, Sabrina watched Mitchell, the Korean delegates, and Dr. Cho return to the study, closing the door behind them.

“Reaper must be hiding inside,” Nate murmured beside her. “Risky play.”

Sabrina nodded, employing her medical training to control her breathing during high-stress situations, willing her racing heart to slow.

Five agonizing minutes passed. Then Cal’s voice, barely audible: “Security alert triggered on the east wing. Multiple guards responding.”

“Mitchell’s security team just radioed him,” Jade reported. “They’re informing him of a potential breach. Drunk guest and companion in the closed wing.”

Through the study windows, Sabrina saw Mitchell answer a phone call, his expression shifting from annoyance to concern. He said something to his guests, and they immediately gathered their materials.

“They’re leaving the study,” she reported. “Mitchell appears agitated. Something’s spooked him.”

The moment the door closed behind the last person, Atticus’s voice returned: “I’m clear. Scanning documents with LuxScan to copy all files including Operation Blackbird folder. Sixty seconds to completion.”

“Security sweeping the second floor,” Cal warned. “Forty-five seconds before they reach the study. You won’t get out with the copies before you’re found.”

“Engaging locks from the inside,” Atticus said calmly. “That’ll buy me twenty seconds.”

“Window extraction is your best option,” Jade advised. “East side has a decorative trellis that will support your weight. I’ve got you covered.”

Security voices echoed through the door as sweat trickled down Atticus’s spine. The LuxScan screen showed download completion, and he grabbed the device, running to the window as the doorknob rattled.

Sabrina held her breath, watching Atticus appear at the window. He slid it open smoothly, swinging himself onto the narrow ledge with fluid grace and closing the window behind him.

“Guards using the master key,” Cal whispered.

Atticus reached for the trellis, testing it briefly before transferring his weight. The ironwork creaked but held as he began a controlled descent.

“Motion on the east perimeter,” Cal alerted. “Security team from the drunk guest incident heading back to the house.”

“I see them,” Nate confirmed. “Two guards, moving fast.”

Atticus was halfway down when the study door burst open above him. Voices shouted, and flashlight beams swept across the grounds.

“Hold position,” Jade ordered. “They haven’t spotted him yet.”

Atticus froze in shadow as guards scanned the grounds with flashlights. After ten excruciating seconds, they withdrew, apparently concluding no one could have escaped that way.

The moment they disappeared, Atticus resumed his descent, dropping the final six feet to land in a crouch on the manicured lawn.

“On the move,” he reported. “Extraction route Charlie.”

“Copy that,” Max confirmed. “Nightshade is clear. Clearing the southeast perimeter now.”

Atticus moved with swift purpose through shadows toward Sabrina’s position. She glimpsed his face through the binoculars—focused, determined, alive with adrenaline.

“Security response escalating,” Cal warned. “They’re initiating a full ground sweep. All teams prepare for immediate extraction.”

Sabrina scanned the grounds frantically for approaching security. Her gaze caught movement near the south garden entrance—a guard with a flashlight moving methodically along the perimeter.

“Security approaching surveillance position alpha,” she reported. “Warlock?”

“Hold position.” Nate’s voice remained steady. “I’ve got eyes on him. Routine check. Don’t move.”

Sabrina pressed deeper into the trellis shadows as her heart pounded. The guard approached steadily, his flashlight sweeping across garden beds yards from her position.

“Security converging on your position,” Cal warned. “All teams extract immediately.”

The guard’s light swept closer, illuminating roses just feet away. She held her breath, muscles locked.

Suddenly, a strong arm encircled her waist from behind, pulling her into deeper shadow between the trellis and a massive topiary. A hand covered her mouth, preventing her startled gasp.

“Don’t move,” Atticus whispered into her ear, his breath warm against her skin. His body pressed solid against her back, his arm like iron around her waist as the guard’s light swept past.

For endless seconds, they remained frozen—her back against his chest, their bodies aligned from shoulder to knee in the confined space. Sabrina registered every point of contact, the solid strength of him, the controlled rhythm of his breathing despite his heart-pounding escape.

The guard paused, his light hovering near their hiding place. Atticus’s arm tightened almost imperceptibly, his body tense and ready to move if discovered. The moment stretched, her pulse thundering.

Then the guard’s radio crackled to life, and a voice instructed him to report to the main entrance. With a final sweep, he turned and departed, footsteps fading into distance.

Only then did Atticus release her, his hand dropping from her mouth, his arm unwinding from her waist. The sudden absence of his warmth left her oddly bereft despite the summer heat.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and controlled despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

Sabrina nodded, not trusting her voice immediately. “Fine,” she finally managed. “You?”

His expression was granite in the dim light, but something burned in his eyes. “We need to move. Now. Everyone to extraction points. Mitchell’s security is on high alert.”

Nate materialized beside them. Through her earpiece, Sabrina heard Cal coordinating the team’s withdrawal. “Nightshade is clear, headed to secondary rendezvous. Frost, status?”

“Disassembling position, will meet at secondary. Status on primary team?”

“Moving to extraction point now,” Atticus confirmed, lengthening his stride as they reached the wooded area separating Mitchell’s estate from neighboring properties. “ETA three minutes.”

“Copy that,” Cal replied. “And Viper? You owe me a hundred bucks. That was definitely under thirty minutes.”

“Really not the time, Cal,” Atticus growled.

“Hey, a bet’s a bet,” Max said.

Sabrina matched Atticus’s pace, adrenaline driving her forward through the wooded area. The extraction route utilized natural cover provided by the landscape.

They reached the extraction point—a service road where their disguised van waited—in precisely three minutes, as Eden pulled up in a catering van.

“Everyone accounted for?” Eden asked as they climbed inside.

“Nightshade’s coming overland,” Nate replied, closing the door. “She’ll rendezvous at the safe house.”

“Drive,” Atticus instructed.

As the van pulled away, Sabrina watched Atticus remove the LuxScan device from his tuxedo jacket. His expression remained unreadable as he handed it to Cal, who secured it in a specialized case.

“Did you get what we needed on the bioweapon?” she asked, breaking the tense silence.

“Partial intelligence,” Atticus replied, loosening his bow tie. “Mitchell is negotiating with South Korean separatists, not the official government. Delivery timeline within the next thirty days. Dr. Cho provided technical details on deployment and efficacy.”

“We’ll review the audio recordings,” Cal added, working on a tablet. “Extract specifics on delivery method and target.”

Sabrina nodded, processing this information with clinical detachment. “Any mention of countermeasures?”

“Nothing explicit, but Dr. Cho referenced contingency protocols for accidental exposure,” Atticus said. “Suggesting a treatment exists but is closely guarded.”

The van wound through Dallas’s dark streets, everyone silent with the focused intensity following a high-risk operation. Despite their successful extraction, Atticus remained tense, his gaze fixed on the secured device.

As the van continued toward the safe house, she caught Atticus’s gaze briefly in the dim light. The intensity she saw spoke volumes—gratitude for her presence, respect for her contribution, and something deeper, something unspoken passing between them like an electric current.

Whatever developed between them was far from simple. And far from over.