Someone is still fighting.
Good.
I move.
I need the main panel first. Get power back to the safe room feeds, give them eyes again.
Then the jammer.
No. Reverse that.
The jammer matters more for reinforcements, but I am closer to the panel, and the exterior junction sits along the west side, behind the utility enclosure. If I can restore even partial power, I can see. If I can see, I can find the jammer faster.
I cross the garden path in a low sprint that makes pain rip through my side so hard my vision sparks white at the edges. I catch myself against a stone planter and swallow a curse.
Not now.
A body lies near the hydrangeas, dead.
One of the attackers.
Past him, one of Nick’s security is slumped against the base of an ornamental tree, breathing shallowly, hand pressed to his thigh.
I don’t know him.
I move to him fast and crouch, weapon still up.
His eyes snap open, and his gun starts to lift.
“Friendly,” I say low.
He recognizes me after half a second and lowers it, jaw tight.
“How bad?”
“Leg,” he grits. “Arterial missed.”
“You mobile?”
His mouth twists. “Not fast.”
“Stay low. Anyone comes through that hedge who isn’t mine or yours, shoot them.”
“Copy.”
“How many came through here?”
“Four.” He swallows hard. “Two down. One went toward the garage. One toward the west utility.”
Must’ve been the one to cut the power.
“Stay alive,” I tell him.
“Trying.”
I move again.
The west side of the house is darker than usual. Someone killed the path lights. The backup strips along the exterior foundation are still faintly glowing, but not enough. The whole side of the property is all fractured shadows and wet grass and the smell of dirt kicked up by boots.
