# Chapter 8: Betrayal and Rescue

"How many others are there?"

"Currently? Maybe a dozen with active abilities scattered across the country. Without protection, most of them will be dead within six months." Eleanor's voice was matter-of-fact, but the implications were horrifying. "The Collectors have become very efficient at identifying and harvesting carriers."

"Then we need to find them first," I said. "Protect them before the Collectors can reach them."

"That's exactly what we've been trying to do. But we're outnumbered and outgunned, and we keep losing operatives to betrayal." Eleanor's expression darkened. "Someone is feeding information to the Collectors. Someone with access to Guardian safe houses, operative assignments, and protection details."

"Someone like Lisa Parker's father?" I asked.

Eleanor and Jake exchanged a look that confirmed my worst suspicions.

"We've been investigating potential leaks in the security firms we contract with," Eleanor said carefully. "But so far, we haven't found definitive proof."

"What about Rebecca?" I asked. "My... my mother. Is she part of these rescue operations?"

"Rebecca operates independently," Jake said. "She doesn't trust Guardian command structure after losing several people she was mentoring to what she believes was inside information."

"Smart woman," Eleanor said dryly. "Though her methods are sometimes... dramatic."

Before I could ask what that meant, my enhanced hearing picked up the sound of cars coming up the drive. Multiple vehicles, moving fast.

Jake was at the window instantly. "Eleanor, we have company. Three black SUVs, moving in formation."

Eleanor's expression went from concerned to deadly serious. "Wards are still intact. They shouldn't be able to approach with hostile intent."

"Then they're either not hostile, or they've found a way around your protections," Jake said grimly, drawing a gun from somewhere under his jacket.

"Or they have someone with them who genuinely believes they're here to help," Eleanor said, her face pale. "Someone whose good intentions would let them through the ward barrier."

The implication hit me like ice water. "Someone who's been compromised but doesn't know it."

"Or someone who's been lying about their loyalties all along." Jake checked his weapon and moved toward the door. "Either way, we need to assume this is not a friendly visit."

Eleanor stood and began pulling crystals from strategic positions around the room. "Sarah, I need you to go upstairs to my study. There's a panic room behind the bookshelf—press the third book from the left on the second shelf, and it will open."

"I'm not hiding while you two fight my battles."

"You're not hiding, you're preserving the most important asset in this conflict," Eleanor said firmly. "If they capture you, every other person with abilities becomes expendable. Your survival is more important than ours."

The sound of car doors slamming echoed from outside, followed by the measured footsteps of multiple people approaching the house.

"Go, Sarah," Jake said urgently. "Please. I can't protect you if I'm worrying about where you are."

I wanted to argue, but the fear in Jake's voice convinced me more than Eleanor's strategic reasoning. These people had dedicated their lives to protecting others like me—the least I could do was not make their job harder.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the stairs, pausing at the landing to look back. Eleanor was arranging crystals in what looked like a defensive pattern, while Jake positioned himself by the front window with a clear view of the approaching visitors.

"Jake?" I called softly.

He turned, and for a moment his carefully controlled expression slipped, showing me fear and something deeper—something that looked like the possibility of goodbye.

"Be careful," I whispered.

"Always am," he lied.

I forced myself to continue up the stairs, following Eleanor's directions to her study. The room was exactly what I'd expected—floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, an antique desk, and enough mystical paraphernalia to stock a new age shop. I found the third book from the left on the second shelf and pressed it, watching in amazement as a section of the bookshelf swung inward to reveal a small but well-appointed safe room.

The space contained a cot, emergency supplies, and what looked like an advanced communication system. There was also a bank of monitors showing various views of the property, including one focused on the front porch where I could see our visitors.

My blood ran cold when I recognized the woman leading the group.

It was Lisa.

My best friend since college was standing on Eleanor's front porch, flanked by the same two men in dark suits who had tracked us to the motel. She looked nervous but determined, like someone who genuinely believed she was doing the right thing.

I fumbled for the communication system, finally finding what looked like an intercom button.

"Jake, it's Lisa," I said urgently. "She's with the Collectors, but I don't think she knows what they are."

Jake's voice crackled back through the speaker. "Are you sure?"

"She looks scared, not malicious. I think they're using her somehow."

There was a long pause before Jake responded. "Eleanor thinks they might have her family. Collectors often use hostage situations to force cooperation from people close to their targets."

That made horrible sense. Lisa was fiercely protective of the people she loved—if someone threatened her children or her parents, she would do anything to keep them safe.

Through the monitor, I watched Eleanor open the front door. Even from this distance, I could see the tension in her posture.

"Lisa Parker," Eleanor said pleasantly, as if receiving unexpected guests was the most normal thing in the world. "How unexpected. And you've brought friends."

"Ms. Blackwood, I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for my friend Sarah Mitchell. These gentlemen are federal agents investigating some irregularities with her adoption records, and they believe she might be in danger."

The lie rolled off Lisa's tongue so smoothly that I almost believed it myself. But I could see the way her hands were shaking, the way she kept glancing nervously at the men beside her.

"I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name," Eleanor replied calmly. "Perhaps you have the wrong address?"

One of the men—tall, thin, with the kind of bland features that would be forgotten instantly—stepped forward. "Ma'am, we have reliable information that Sarah Mitchell is on this property. We really need to speak with her for her own safety."

"As I said, I don't know anyone by that name." Eleanor's voice had taken on a subtle edge that made the hair on my arms stand up. "I'm afraid you'll need to look elsewhere."

"Lisa," the second man said quietly, "perhaps you should explain the situation more clearly."

Lisa's face crumpled, and I could see tears in her eyes as she looked directly at the security camera—directly at me, though she couldn't know I was watching.

"Sarah, if you're here, please come out," she said, her voice breaking. "They have my kids. They have Emma and Jack, and they say they'll hurt them if I don't bring you back with me."

My heart shattered. Emma and Jack were Lisa's eight-year-old twins, the light of her life. The thought of them being held by people like the ones who had murdered those other women made me physically sick.

"Sarah, please," Lisa continued, tears streaming down her face now. "I know this looks bad, but they promised they just want to help you understand your family history. They said there are people who might try to hurt you if you don't have proper protection."

The manipulation was so smooth, so believable, that if I hadn't already learned about Collectors, I might have been convinced they were legitimate government agents.

Through the intercom, I heard Jake's voice. "Sarah, don't even think about it. The moment you show yourself, they'll grab you and disappear. Lisa's children are probably already dead."

"You don't know that," I whispered back.

"I know Collectors. They don't leave loose ends."

But as I watched Lisa's desperate face on the monitor, I couldn't just assume her children were beyond help. These were the kids I'd helped with homework, taken to movies, bought Christmas presents for every year. They called me Aunt Sarah.

I was reaching for the door handle when Eleanor's voice came through the intercom.

"Sarah, if you reveal yourself now, Lisa's children die whether you cooperate or not. The only way to save them is to let us handle this."

"How?" I demanded.

"Trust us."

Through the monitor, I watched Eleanor step aside, seeming to invite the group into her home. "You know what, I think there has been a misunderstanding. Why don't you all come in, and we'll see if we can sort this out?"

The moment Lisa and the two men crossed the threshold, the change in the atmosphere was visible even through the security cameras. The men's bland, professional expressions shifted to confusion, then growing alarm.

"What—" the tall one began, then stopped, his eyes going wide.

"Ward trap," Eleanor explained pleasantly, as both men began clawing at their necks as if they couldn't breathe. "The moment you entered with hostile intentions toward someone under my protection, you triggered a rather unpleasant defensive spell."

Lisa looked around wildly, finally understanding that she'd walked into something far more complex than she'd been told. "What's happening to them?"

"They're experiencing what it feels like to be hunted," Eleanor said calmly, pulling out her phone. "Jake, dear, would you call our cleanup team? We have two Collectors who need to be questioned."