Chapter 4 - Undercover Protection
The training was brutal, but it was the first time in years that Garrett felt alive.
Eleanor didn't treat him like a hired gun; she treated him like a partner in a high-stakes chess game. By day, Garrett acted as her driver and personal assistant, moving through the halls of corporate power. By night, he worked in the subterranean levels of the estate, reviewing tactical feeds and learning to identify the "footprints" of the Syndicate’s agents.
He learned quickly that the corporate world was just as dangerous as the streets of Baghdad. The enemies weren't wearing desert camouflage; they wore Italian suits and smiles that didn't reach their eyes.
"Watch the board of directors," Eleanor warned him one evening while they were reviewing a security audit. "The man sitting at the head of the table, Marcus Thorne, is the one funneling intelligence to the Syndicate. He thinks I don't know."
Garrett studied the surveillance footage. He saw the subtle cues—the way Thorne checked his watch at specific times, the way he subtly blocked the camera view during sensitive meetings. Garrett’s SEAL instincts kicked in. He began counter-surveillance, setting up digital traps that would reveal the depth of Thorne's betrayal.
But the pressure was mounting. One afternoon, while at a high-end gala, Garrett felt the back of his neck prickle. It was the "danger sense"—the same feeling he’d had seconds before an IED went off in the desert. He caught the reflection of a man in a waiter’s uniform, his hand reaching toward his jacket pocket.
Garrett didn't hesitate. He moved like a shadow, intercepting the waiter just as he stepped toward Eleanor. He drove the man into a service corridor, pinning him against the wall with his forearm against the throat.
"Who sent you?" Garrett growled.
May you like
The man smirked, his eyes devoid of fear. "You think you're protecting her? You're just a dog on a leash, Holloway. And when the leash snaps, you’re the first one they’ll put down."
Garrett realized then that the war was not coming—it was already here. The target wasn't just the technology. The target was Eleanor, and anyone standing in her orbit. He looked back through the service door to see Eleanor standing calmly in the ballroom, unaware that death had just come within three feet of her. He knew then that he would have to become something more dangerous than the men coming for them.
