“On whether those guys get away.”
Because if they do—
We just lost the only people who might know who sent them.
Outside the church—
Gunfire suddenly erupts into the Montana night.
And the war Mara warned me about might have just started.
15
Boone
The first shot cracks through the Montana night like thunder.
Then everything erupts.
I push through the church doors just as muzzle flashes light up the street.
Adam and Russ are already in position behind their trucks, rifles up, headlights cutting through the darkness.
The black SUVs outside the church are angled toward the road like the men who arrived planned a fast exit.
Professional.
Organized.
But they didn’t plan on the Brave Team.
“Contact left!” Russ shouts.
A burst of suppressed fire rips across the gravel lot.
Bullets snap past the church steps.
I drop behind the stone pillar beside the entrance and draw my weapon.
Across the lot three men in tactical gear sprint toward the SUVs.
Another two take cover behind the vehicles, returning fire toward Adam, Russ, and Miles.
They move like trained operators.
Tight formation.
Disciplined bursts.
Not amateurs.
“Boone!” Adam calls.
“You good?”
“Still breathing!”
“Good enough!”
