Chapter 24 - The Hunt in the Rose Garden
The rain poured in relentless sheets over the Whitmore estate, turning the immaculate rose gardens into a swamp of black mud and shredded petals.
On the south terrace, two Iron Guard mercenaries moved in synchronized perimeter sweeps, their night-vision goggles casting an eerie green glow over their masked faces.
"Alpha Two to Command," the lead operative whispered into his comms. "Terrace clear. No sign of the target."
A heavy drop of water landed on the back of his neck. Then another.
He glanced up at the neoclassical stone balcony overhang.
From the shadows of the balustrade, Naomi dropped silently onto the soft earth behind the second soldier. Before the lead man could register the faint rustle of displaced mud, Naomi swept the second man’s legs out with a scything low kick. As he collapsed, she caught him by his tactical vest, spun him around, and used his body as a human shield just as the lead operative spun around and opened fire.
*Thump! Thump! Thump!*
The suppressed rounds thudded uselessly into the body armor of the falling mercenary.
Before the shooter could correct his aim, Naomi pushed the heavy corpse forward, closing the six-foot gap in a terrifying burst of speed. She knocked the mercenary’s carbine aside with her left forearm, drove her right palm upward into the base of his nose, and wrenched his neck in a swift, merciless motion.
Both mercenaries lay motionless in the mud. Total elapsed time: 3.4 seconds.
Naomi knelt beside them, retrieving their flashlights, magazines, and a satellite uplink pad. She powered on the screen, shielding the dim blue glow under the hem of her apron.
The tactical map showed the deployment of Cole's team.
"Conservatory: three men. Grand ballroom: four men. East gate: Cole’s armored command van," she whispered to herself, memorizing the coordinates.
Marcus Cole was running this operation from the comfort of a custom Mercedes Sprinter van parked just beyond the perimeter fence, watching feeds from aerial drones circling above the storm clouds.
Suddenly, her captured headset crackled to life with a screech of feedback.
"Reyes," Cole’s voice purred. "I see you on the garden thermal camera. Still as fast as you were in Bogota. But you're getting predictable."
Naomi looked up directly into the lens of a micro-drone hovering silently ten feet above the marble fountain. She didn't flinch. She raised her sidearm and blew the drone out of the air with a single shot.
"You're sloppy, Cole," Naomi said into the microphone, her voice steady against the howling wind and rain. "You brought fourteen men to kill one retired maid. That means you're terrified."
A raspy, bitter chuckle echoed in her ear. "Not terrified, Naomi. Thorough. You think this was about Ethan Whitmore's toy railguns? Those schematics are already halfway to Shanghai. The real prize tonight was always drawing you out of the shadows. The Consortium placed a ten-million-dollar bounty on your head after the Bucharest disaster. And tonight, I collect."
"Come collect it yourself," Naomi replied, letting the headset drop to the ground and crushing it beneath her combat boot.
May you like
She turned back toward the main house. The warm, golden light that had illuminated the grand gala only hours ago was gone. The estate was now an active combat zone—and Naomi Reyes was the deadliest predator inside it.
***
