Midnight Strike

The air around the Whitmore mansion was unnervingly quiet that night. The increased security measures were in full effect, with guards patrolling the grounds and cameras monitoring every inch of the property. Alexander had ensured that every possible point of entry was fortified, but his instincts still whispered that danger was closer than it appeared.

Mia, now nearly eight months pregnant, sat in their bedroom, absently rubbing her swollen belly. She could feel the tension radiating from Alexander as he paced by the window, his phone glued to his ear. He was speaking in a hushed but urgent tone, issuing instructions to his team.

She wanted to tell him to rest, to sit with her and ease his mind, but she knew better. This wasn't just about her or the baby—it was about their future and the empire he had worked so hard to protect.

"Alexander," she finally said, her voice soft but firm, "you've done everything you can. The guards, the cameras, the safe rooms—they're all in place. You're prepared."

Alexander turned to her, his face etched with worry. "I know, but these people… They don't play by the rules. They'll look for weaknesses, for blind spots. I won't let them get to you, Mia."

She reached for his hand, pulling him to sit beside her. "I trust you. And I trust that we'll get through this together. But you can't fight a war on exhaustion. Promise me you'll rest, even if it's just for an hour."

Alexander's expression softened as he looked into her eyes. "I'll try," he said, though his mind was still racing. He kissed her forehead before standing. "Let me check on the perimeter one more time, and then I'll join you."

Outside the mansion, the Syndicate's operatives moved with practiced precision. Dressed in black and armed with state-of-the-art equipment, they avoided detection by staying in the blind spots they had meticulously mapped out.

Their leader, the scar-faced man, whispered commands into his earpiece. "Move to the eastern wing. Disable the cameras there first."

One of the operatives climbed a tree near the fence, using a jammer to temporarily disrupt the security feed. Within seconds, the guards monitoring the cameras saw nothing but static.

"We're in," the operative confirmed.

Back in the security control room, Elena immediately noticed the disruption. "We've got interference on the east wing," she barked into her radio. "All units, converge on the east perimeter now!"

Alexander, who had just entered the control room, froze when he heard her. His jaw tightened, and his mind went into overdrive. "They're here," he muttered, grabbing his gun.

Elena nodded. "They're making their move. We have to assume they're targeting Mia."

Alexander's blood ran cold. Without another word, he sprinted out of the room, his heart pounding as he headed toward the bedroom.

Mia sat in bed, flipping through a book to distract herself when she heard faint footsteps outside the door. At first, she thought it was Alexander, but something about the sound was off. It was too cautious, too deliberate.

Her heart rate spiked as the door handle turned. The bedroom door creaked open, revealing two masked figures holding tranquilizer guns.

Mia's instincts kicked in. She grabbed the nearest object—a decorative vase—and hurled it at one of them. The vase shattered against the man's head, knocking him off balance. But the second figure advanced, aiming the gun at her.

Before he could pull the trigger, the door burst open, and Alexander stormed in. With a swift motion, he disarmed the first intruder and incapacitated him with a single punch. The second man tried to grab Mia, but Alexander was faster, tackling him to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Alexander asked, his voice breathless as he knelt by Mia.

She nodded, tears streaming down her face. "I'm fine. The baby's fine."

He helped her to her feet and placed a protective hand on her belly. "I'm taking you to the safe room. You're not leaving my sight."