Chapter 7: The Blueprint of a Trap
Back at the mountain cabin, the midnight air grew biting cold. Thomas sat by the dying embers of the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with rhythmic, methodical strokes. The door creaked open softly, and Rebecca walked in, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket, her face pale in the moonlight.
"You're not sleeping," Thomas observed quietly without looking up.
"I can't," Rebecca admitted, sitting down on the edge of the cot where Lily slept soundly. She pulled her knees up slightly, mindful of her seven-month pregnancy. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Julian's face. I see how easily he could have destroyed us all. Dad... what if we fail? What if his money and power are just too big to beat?"
Thomas stopped sharpening the blade. He set the knife down, looked up, and reached across the space to take his daughter's cold hands in his own calloused palms.
"Listen to me, Becca," Thomas said, his voice steady, carrying the absolute authority of a man who had stared down monsters and survived. "Men like Julian build empires out of glass. They look indestructible from the outside, but they are terrified of the dark. All it takes is one small stone thrown through the window to bring the whole thing crashing down. You survived his house. You survived his threats. You are stronger than you know."
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Rebecca squeezed her father's hand, feeling a sudden rush of warmth dispel the chill in her bones. "Marcus figured out how to bypass the estate's exterior security grid during the charity gala this Friday. Security will be focused on the front entrance and the ballroom."
"Then we use the service balcony on the second floor," Thomas finished, a grim smile forming on his lips. "Let's go over the blueprint one more time."
