Chapter 118

Chapter 118
Isabella's POV

I stared at the massive electronic screen mounted on the west study wall, a dozen surveillance feeds flickering simultaneously, each capturing a different angle of the estate's perimeter. In the green-tinted night vision, patrol teams moved along predetermined routes like precision gears in a machine, their paths predictable, their formations tight.

"Look here." Quincy stood behind me, his finger pointing to the upper left corner of the screen. "Areas with the highest firepower density will show denser red dots on thermal imaging—that's the heat signature from clustered weapons and personnel."

I nodded, my gaze sweeping across that section. Three fixed firing positions formed a triangle, perfectly covering the lowlands to the northwest. "This looks like the main defensive line."

"Not quite." Quincy switched feeds. "The real main line wouldn't be this obvious. Now I'm teaching you to identify 'performative defense'—those positions that look strong are often meant to draw enemy attention."

I frowned, re-examining the feeds. The main gate's defenses were indeed heavy—at least twenty armed personnel, two heavy machine guns mounted behind sandbags, an armored vehicle positioned on the flank. But the northwest lowlands...

"Wait." I pointed toward the northwest. "This area's patrol frequency is noticeably lower than elsewhere, and there are gaps between those three firing positions."

Quincy's lips curved slightly upward. "Continue."

I enlarged the image, carefully studying that seemingly vulnerable terrain. The ground sloped gently downward, offering clear sightlines with no obvious cover. If I were attacking, this would be a breakthrough point—open ground meant fast advancement, and sparse defenses appeared easy to overcome.

But it was too obvious.

"It's a trap." I turned to Quincy. "The terrain's too open. If Russell's men charge in..."

"They'll be shredded by crossfire." Quincy opened another file, the screen displaying a three-dimensional topographical map of the northwest lowlands. "Boss has buried three layers of mines in this area, each with different trigger mechanisms. First layer pressure-activated, second layer tripwire, third layer remote detonation."

I drew in a sharp breath. The densely packed red dots on the map looked like death's scattered seeds.

"And here." Quincy marked several more positions. "Three fire teams are hidden in the tree lines on both sides of the lowlands. Once the enemy enters the open ground, they'll open fire from three directions simultaneously. The deeper they push, the faster they die."

My fingers unconsciously clenched, nails digging into my palms. "What about the main gate? It looks heavily defended."

"That's for Russell to see." Quincy switched back to the main gate feed. "The heavy presence is meant to convince them 'this is important,' but actually..."

He zoomed in, pointing to a narrow path behind the armored vehicle. "There's a retreat route here that looks like our escape route, but it's actually a trap for drawing them in. Once the enemy thinks they've broken through the main gate and charges into this passage, Aiden's team will flank from both sides and trap them inside."

I stared at that narrow corridor, my mind conjuring the scene of enemies rushing in only to be caught in a pincer attack. This wasn't defense—it was slaughter.

"Gabriel's turned the entire estate into a web," I murmured. "Russell thinks he's attacking, but he's really walking step by step into a trap."

"Exactly." Quincy closed the topographical map, switching back to live surveillance. "Your job is to find any possible holes in this web and report them immediately."

I took a deep breath, sweeping my gaze across those feeds again. Every angle, every area—I had to remember them all. Firepower distribution, patrol routes, terrain features... the information gradually assembled into a complete layout in my mind.

"Here." I pointed to the eastern tree line. "This area has a surveillance blind spot. If the enemy circles around from here..."

"Already handled." Quincy pulled up another feed. "Aiden's squad is positioned just outside that tree line, waiting specifically for Russell's follow-up forces."

I nodded, continuing to check other areas. The north wall, the south garage, the underground passage exits... every potentially exploitable position had Gabriel's arrangements.

"The study you'll be working from is here." Quincy marked a point on the map. "Near the west defensive line, but protected by three reinforced walls and two backup firing positions. Even if the front line falls, this will be one of the safest areas."

I looked at that marked point, complex emotions rising in my chest. Gabriel had positioned me here both because he trusted me to handle intelligence and to ensure my safety.

"Understood." I turned to face Quincy. "Anything else I need to watch for?"

"Communications." Quincy handed me an encrypted channel earpiece. "Once the fighting starts, all commands go through this channel. Your job is to observe, assess, and report. Remember—every detail you see could affect the outcome."

I took the earpiece, light though it was, it felt like some heavy responsibility settling on my ear.

"And..." Quincy paused. "If things go sideways, Boss will have someone evacuate you. When that happens, don't hesitate—just go."

I didn't answer, only turned back to the screens. Evacuate? If it came to that point, probably no one would escape unscathed.

Time trickled by until deep into the night, when the study held only the faint glow of surveillance monitors. I sat in the chair, running through possible scenarios repeatedly—where would Russell attack from? How many routes would he divide his main force into? What if the northwest line was breached? What if the main gate's bait strategy failed...

"Still awake?"

Gabriel's voice came from the doorway. I looked up to see him leaning against the frame, exhaustion written in his features but his eyes still sharp.

"Can't sleep." I answered honestly. "Thinking about possible variables."

He walked in, settling into the chair beside me, his gaze sweeping across those surveillance feeds. "Tell me your assessment."

I organized my thoughts. "After losing his rationality, Russell will favor direct assault. But he's not completely insane—he'll retain some tactical thinking. I'm guessing he'll split into two routes: feint at the main gate to draw fire, main assault at the northwest to attempt a quick breakthrough."

Gabriel said nothing, only nodded slightly, indicating I should continue.

"The main gate's defenses are too obvious—he won't commit his main force there. The northwest lowlands look like a weak point, open terrain, sparse defenses, fitting his psychological expectation of 'quick breakthrough.'" I paused. "But he doesn't know it's a trap."

"What if he does?" Gabriel asked suddenly.

I froze for a moment, then understood his meaning. "If he detects the trap beforehand, he might change strategy—abandon the northwest, try flanking from the east or south instead."

"How would you respond?"

I stared at the map, my mind racing through scenarios. "The east has Aiden's squad, the south has complex terrain unfavorable for large-scale advancement. If he really changes strategy, most likely he'll disperse his forces, attack multiple points simultaneously to probe our defenses."

Gabriel's lips curved slightly upward. "Good."

"But you're not worried." I looked at him. "Because you've already considered every possibility."

"This war's outcome was decided long ago." Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his tone calm as if stating fact. "I'm just waiting for Russell to walk into his own grave."

I fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "What if he doesn't come?"

"He'll come." Gabriel's eyes turned ice-cold. "The pain of losing his son will strip away his last shred of rationality. His only goal now is killing me, killing you, avenging Adrian. That obsession will blind him to the traps."

I thought of that man who'd lost his son in an explosion, remembered the madness and despair in his eyes. Gabriel was right—Russell wasn't fighting a war anymore, he was conducting a suicidal revenge.

"Are you afraid?" Gabriel suddenly looked at me.

I met his gaze, those green eyes like some predator's in the dim light. "Yes." I didn't deny it. "But I won't run."

He reached out, fingertips brushing gently across my cheek, the gesture unexpectedly tender. "After dawn tomorrow, this place will become hell. You'll see many people die, hear screams and explosions, smell blood and gunpowder."

"I know."

"You might see me kill." His voice dropped lower. "In the most brutal ways."

I grasped his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm. "I won't run."

He stared at me for a long moment, then lowered his head, forehead pressing against mine. "Then we survive this together."

The words hung between us like a vow.