Moving swiftly through the estate's outer defenses, Jillian and her team used the blind spots Leo had mapped out from the security feeds. The air was thick with tension as they crept toward the side entrance. Dante picked the lock with practiced ease, and they slipped inside, the dimly lit corridor stretching ahead of them.
Leo kept his eyes on his tablet, tracking guard movements. "We have about five minutes before the next patrol rounds this way."
Jillian nodded. "Then let's move."
They reached the meeting room's door. Muffled voices came from inside—Harlond's among them. Jillian's pulse quickened. This was their chance.
Dante placed a small device on the door, a miniature audio bug that would record everything. As he pressed it into place, the voices inside grew sharper. Someone was getting angry.
Jillian signaled for silence as she pressed her ear against the door. Whatever was happening inside, it wasn't going as planned for Harlond.
Inside the meeting room, Harlond's voice was clipped with frustration.
"You assured me there wouldn't be any complications," he snapped. "Yet here we are, cleaning up another mess."
A second voice, low and controlled, responded. "The situation is being handled. The leak has been dealt with."
Jillian frowned. Leak? Had one of their sources been discovered?
Another man, his voice rough with impatience, cut in. "We lost a shipment because of this. You think that's just going to go unnoticed? People are asking questions, and if we don't have answers, we're the ones who'll pay for it."
A chair scraped against the floor. Jillian imagined Harlond standing, towering over the table. "We stick to the plan. We push forward, and anyone who stands in our way—" A sharp pause. "—is removed."
Dante clenched his fists. Leo exchanged a glance with Jillian, his expression grim.
Jillian pressed a hand against the doorframe, steadying herself. This was bigger than they thought.
Inside the meeting room, tension hung thick in the air. Harlond sat at the head of a long, polished table, surrounded by a select group of associates—powerful figures with vested interests in his plans. Documents lay scattered before them, some stamped with official seals, others bearing coded messages.
A man in a dark suit stood, adjusting his cuffs before speaking. "The shipments are secure, but we have a problem. There's been movement—people asking the wrong questions." His gaze flickered toward Harlond, waiting for instruction.
Harlond leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the table. "Then deal with it. I won't tolerate loose ends."
Another voice, hesitant but firm, interjected. "And what about the girl? She's been quiet lately, but we can't be sure she's given up."
Harlond's expression darkened. "If she becomes a threat, we eliminate her. No mistakes this time."
Outside, Jillian and her team listened through a hidden device, their hearts pounding. They had the confirmation they needed—Harlond wasn't just involved in shady dealings; he was willing to kill to protect them. The question now was: How far were they willing to go to stop him?
******
After gathering the critical information, Jillian and her team slipped away under the cover of darkness, their footsteps silent against the cold pavement. The air was thick with tension, but they moved swiftly, their exit precise and undetected. By the time they reached a safe location, Jillian exhaled, pushing aside the adrenaline still thrumming through her veins.
Tomorrow was a crucial day—her third exam. She needed to shift her focus. The moment she returned to her room, she locked the door behind her, pulling out her notes and flipping through them under the dim glow of her desk lamp. The subject was relatively easy, but she wouldn't take any chances. The rhythmic scratching of her pen against paper filled the quiet space as she revised, underlining key points and murmuring formulas under her breath.
Morning came too soon, the sky still painted in hues of soft pink and gold as she stepped onto campus. The exam hall loomed ahead, but before she could reach it, an all-too-familiar voice sliced through the air.
"Well, well, look who's still pretending she belongs here," Margaret sneered, her voice dripping with mockery.
Jillian slowed her steps, her grip tightening around her notes. Margaret and her usual clique stood in her path, their expressions smug, their presence a deliberate blockade.
Jillian met Margaret's gaze, her expression unreadable. "Move." Her voice was steady, controlled. She had no time for this.
Margaret smirked, leaning in slightly. "You think you're so untouchable, don't you?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Let's see how well you do when you're distracted."
Before Jillian could react, one of Margaret's friends "accidentally" bumped into her, sending her carefully arranged notes scattering like fallen leaves. Papers fluttered under hurried footsteps, ink smudging against the damp ground.
Jillian inhaled deeply, forcing herself to stay calm. This was a test—a different kind of test—and she wouldn't fail. Slowly, she crouched down, gathering her notes with deliberate patience.
Margaret scoffed. "Pathetic." With a flick of her hair, she turned, her laughter blending with that of her friends as they walked away.
Jillian didn't watch them go. Instead, she smoothed out her papers, took a breath to steady herself, and stood tall. She had an exam to ace—and nothing, not even Margaret, would stand in her way.
Jillian straightened her notes, took a deep breath, and walked toward the exam hall, her focus unshaken. The confrontation with Margaret had been nothing more than a distraction—a final attempt to rattle her before the test. But Jillian had faced far worse. She pushed the incident to the back of her mind as she stepped through the doors, scanning the room for her assigned seat.
The hall buzzed with hushed whispers as students flipped through last-minute notes, their expressions a mix of determination and anxiety. The invigilators stood at the front, their sharp eyes surveying the room as the clock ticked down. Jillian settled into her seat, smoothing out her papers and gripping her pen firmly.
A familiar voice muttered from behind, "You good?"
She turned slightly to see Leo sitting a few rows away, his brow raised in concern. He had likely seen the encounter outside.
"I'm fine," she whispered back, offering a small nod. She wasn't about to let something so petty affect her performance.
The sound of a microphone crackling to life silenced the room. "You may begin."
Jillian flipped open the exam booklet, scanning the first set of questions. Relief washed over her—this was exactly what she had prepared for. Her pen glided across the page as she worked through the problems, her confidence growing with each answer.
The minutes slipped by in a blur, and before she knew it, the invigilator's voice rang out again. "Time's up. Pens down."
Jillian exhaled slowly, setting her pen aside as the exam papers were collected. She knew she had done well, but there was no time to celebrate. As she exited the hall, Dante was already waiting outside, arms crossed.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
Jillian smirked. "Easy."
Dante chuckled. "Good. Because we have a problem."
Jillian's smirk faded. "What kind of problem?"
Leo appeared beside them, his expression grim. "Caldwell sent a message. Harlond's movements have changed. He's accelerating his plans."
Jillian tensed. If Harlond was moving faster than expected, they had less time than they thought.
"Then we need to move, too," she said, her mind already shifting gears. The exam might be over, but the real test had just begun.