It was six a.m., the cold morning air tightening my airways, making each breath a sharp, stabbing pain within my chest. I was positioned strategically, between the towering oak trees, the most sheltered area, on the edge of the gardens, with a direct view to the georgian house. The ground floor rooms were clearly visible through the beautifully adorned bay windows; the inhabitants not yet stirring within.
I hesitated, frightened as to the outcome of each tentative step. Darragh, was going to kill me for this.