Jen moved through the house like a shadow, each step calculated, silent, avoiding creaking floorboards and stray debris. The adrenaline from her fight with the tall burglar still coursed through her veins, sharpening her senses to a razor edge. She kept her eyes and ears open, listening for the slightest sound—the shuffle of boots, the low murmur of voices, the scuff of a searcher's hand against furniture.
She crept along the hallway, hugging the walls and pausing at each corner to peer around carefully. Every room she passed held a potential threat.
Her mind raced as she navigated the familiar layout of the house in near darkness. The surveillance room was her target. It was small, tucked off the main corridor, often overlooked in routine checks. The door was slightly ajar, and Jen slipped inside like a whisper, closing it behind her without a sound.
The room was a nest of wires and monitors, screens stacked in neat rows like sentinels waiting to report. Jen's pulse quickened when she realized all the monitors were blank—the system had been turned off manually , flooding her mind with doubt and a sense of foul play. She cursed under her breath, frustration flaring, before kneeling and quickly working the controls. Her fingers flew over buttons, toggling switches and flipping the main feed back online.
Suddenly, the screens flickered to life. Every inch of the house was displayed, crystal clear in multiple angles: the bedrooms, the hallways, the living room, the dining area. She could see the entirety of the ground and upper floors. Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned the monitors, eyes sharp. There! Movement: the tall burglar cautiously moving along the corridor, glancing into rooms as if expecting her to appear. The calm burglar creeping up the stairs, meticulous and silent. And downstairs, in the dining area, the leader prowling, preparing to join the search. The huge burglar In the master bedroom going through the Amy's drawers.
"Pervert." mumbled Jen
Jen crouched behind the control desk, heart racing but mind clear. She traced the paths of each burglar on the monitors, noting their habits, blind spots, and patrol patterns. Slowly, she began formulating a plan. If she could isolate them, catch them one by one using the environment to her advantage, she might regain control of the house—and the safety of the others.
Meanwhile, in the dining area, the leader was about to leave and join the search. As he adjusted his ski mask and other straps on his body, David and Amy sat tense at the table, eyes flicking nervously between the leader and each other, the atmosphere thick with dread.
Then the phone on the table rang. The shrill tone cut through the tension, halting everyone in place. The screen displayed the name Julio.
The leader's eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening. "Who the hell is calling at this hour?" he asked, voice low but sharp.
David frowned, confusion and suspicion mingling in his expression. "Yeah... why would Julio be calling you at this time of night?"
The leader's lips curled into the faintest smirk, an amused glint in his eyes. "Who is Julio?" he asked, leaning closer to study their reactions.
David's tone was sharp, almost defensive. "He's... my wife's yoga instructor," he said, voice heavy with displeasure.
The leader's amusement deepened. Something about the exchange didn't sit right with him. His eyes flicked from Amy to David, noting the subtle tension radiating between them. Amy, sensing the shift, immediately reached to grab the phone to end the call—but before she could, David snatched it up, holding it between them.
A faint, familiar voice came over the line, hesitant, almost nervous. "Babe? Babe... you there?"
The leader chuckled quietly, almost to himself, leaning back with arms crossed. His eyes glinted with dark humor; now, at least, the couple had a distraction from the chaos outside, one that was bound to spark conflict.
David's jaw tightened, voice icy. "No. This is her husband." The tone left no room for argument. He slammed the phone down just as abruptly as he had picked it up. The line went dead.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Amy's face flushed crimson, her hands trembling slightly. David's eyes bore into her with a mixture of frustration and suspicion. Tension hung in the room like smoke from a fire about to ignite.
The leader, leaning casually against the doorway, watched them both with a mixture of amusement and calculation, recognizing perfectly how this tiny domestic drama could fracture focus—and perhaps even leverage control.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to anyone in the dining area, Jen's mind raced in the surveillance room. Every burglar's move was visible to her now. Every step they took to locate her could be anticipated, every approach turned to her advantage. She breathed slowly, quietly, calculating the first strike in what would become a systematic reclaiming of her house—one intruder at a time.