"Ciaran," I say. "Adjust the eastern flanking team to use the creek approach. And flag the flatbed separation gap on the lower road for Rafe's choke point team."
Ciaran is already writing.
My phone rings. The display reads ‘Graves.’
I step to the side of the table and answer. "Sheriff."
"Blackmoore." Graves's voice is weighted. "I've got reports of armed civilian groups recruiting in three counties. Out-of-state money, organized communication, someone is pointing these people at your mountain." He pauses. "I've got four deputies and a jurisdiction that ends at your property line. I can't handle what's coming, and I want to be straight with you about that."
"I appreciate that," I say.
"What I need to know," Graves says, "is whether you can handle what's coming. On your side of that property line?"
"I can," I say.
"And you're going to keep it on your side of the line?"
"That's the intention," I say. "What I need from you, Sheriff, is permission to defend my estate and my family against armed trespassers. If shots are fired on my land, I need to know that defense is legally covered."
A pause. I can hear wind over the phone line.
"Every man has the right to defend his home and the people he loves," Graves says, each word measured and deliberate. "I can't tell you what to do on private property with aposted perimeter." Another pause. "I don't want a bloodbath, Blackmoore."
"Neither do I," I say. "That's not what I'm planning."
"Good." He clicks off.
I set the phone on the table and look at Cassidy and Ciaran.
"Defensive action only," I say, not for the first time today, but now with legal cover behind it. "No engagement until they cross the posted line with weapons raised. After that—clean, fast, minimum force. We push them back and we stop."
Ciaran nods. "I'll brief the strike leads."
"I'll go with him," Cassidy says.
I look at her.
"Stay in the inner boundary," I say.
She looks over her shoulder at me. "I know."
At dusk, the engine noise starts.
It comes through the trees from the south—low and multiple, the rumble of heavy vehicles moving in formation, the sound carrying further than it should in the still evening air. The birds go quiet. The compound quiets with them, wolves pausing in place, heads turning south without thinking about it.
I stand at the war hall window and listen to the sound grow.
Fifteen thousand acres of mountain. Every wolf who calls it home is either in position or moving to one. The pack I've led for seven years, the land my family has held for four generations, the woman standing somewhere inside the inner boundary who has spent weeks learning to navigate a world that tried to kill her and chose to stay in it anyway.
The engines get closer.
I put my jacket on, careful of the shoulder. Tomorrow, the battle begins.
33
CASSIDY
Ifollow Alden out into the corridor and fall into step beside him, following wherever he is going. He doesn’t stop me.
