“Take her. Lock it down behind you.”
Harper nods and takes Sadie’s hand. “We have her. Go do what you need to do.”
The women and children disappear down the stairs. I hear the heavy steel door at the bottom clang shut and the locks engage. Only then do I turn back toward the front of the lodge.
The fight escalates fast. The main gate buckles. Two trucks with reinforced bumpers back up and repeatedly slam into it. Men on foot spread out along the fence line, firing suppressing shots to keep our heads down. I grab my rifle from the rack by the door, check the magazine, and move to a broken window beside Silas.
“Status?” I ask.
“Fifteen, maybe twenty hostiles,” he answers, voice calm despite the chaos. “Well armed. Looks like Magnus brought his whole crew. They want her bad.”
Rafe slides in beside us, reloading. “Boyd and Wyatt cover the east fence. Chase is on the generator. If they cut power we still have the backup, but it won’t last forever. We need to push them back before they breach the gate completely.”
I nod and take aim through the shattered glass. My first shot drops one of the men trying to climb the fence. The others scatter for cover. Adrenaline surges through me, sharpeningevery sense. This is familiar territory. Years of training kick in automatically. Breathe. Aim. Fire. Move. Protect.
The next twenty minutes blur into controlled violence. We return fire in disciplined bursts, forcing the attackers to stay back. Boyd takes out the driver of one of the ramming trucks with a precise shot through the windshield. The vehicle veers off and crashes into a tree. Wyatt and Rhett work their way around the side, flanking a group that tried to breach from the west. Eli moves between positions, patching up minor wounds when anyone gets grazed.
But Magnus’s men are determined. They have numbers and firepower. A grenade sails over the gate and explodes near the woodpile, sending splinters flying. Another truck accelerates toward the weakened gate. The metal screams as it starts to give way.
Silas curses. “They’re coming through! Fall back to defensive positions around the lodge! We hold the line here!”
We retreat in coordinated pairs, covering each other as we move. Bullets punch through the log walls in places, but the construction is solid. Designed for this. I take cover behind an overturned table near the front window and keep firing. My only clear thought, cutting through the noise and smoke, is that Sadie is downstairs. Safe behind thick concrete and steel. As long as I keep these bastards from reaching the lodge, she’ll stay that way.
The fight grows fiercer. One of Magnus’s men makes it over the broken gate and charges toward the porch before Rafe drops him with two shots. Another tries to flank us from the side and Boyd takes him down. The air smells of gunpowder and burning rubber from the crashed truck. Shouts and screams mix with the constant crack of gunfire.
I reload again, hands steady despite the chaos. Worry gnaws at the edges of my focus. I don’t want to leave Sadie down there in the dark with the others, even though I know the bunker is the safest place on the mountain. She’s probably terrified. But leaving her to fight is the only way to keep her alive. I have to trust the men beside me. Trust the defenses we built. Trust that every shot I fire is one less threat that can reach her.
Rafe moves up beside me during a brief lull. “We cannot hold them off forever like this. If they bring heavier weapons or more men, we need a plan to evacuate or counterattack.”
I nod grimly. “Then we make them pay for every inch. They donotget inside. Not while any of us are breathing.”
Another volley of gunfire erupts. I lean out and drop two more attackers who try to advance under cover of the trucks. My shoulder aches from the recoil, but I barely feel it. All that matters is the gate, the lodge, and the steel door downstairs that separates Sadie from the violence outside.
The battle rages on. Men shout. Bullets fly. The mountain that felt like a sanctuary just hours ago has turned into a war zone. But through it all, one thought burns brighter and clearer than anything else.
Keep Sadie safe.
No matter the cost.
I’ll fight until my last breath to make sure she gets the future we started dreaming about together. The Sunday dinners. The quiet mornings. The life on this mountain where she never has to run again.
For her, I hold the line.
For her, I win.
SIXTEEN
SADIE
The heavy steel door of the bunker clangs shut behind us with a final, echoing thud that vibrates through my bones. The sound cuts off most of the gunfire from above, but I can still hear the distant cracks and thuds, muffled now like thunder rolling far away. My heart pounds so hard it feels like it might break through my ribs. I stand frozen at the bottom of the stairs, one hand still gripping the cold metal railing, the other pressed to my stomach as if that might stop the terror from spilling out.
The bunker is larger than I expected. Concrete walls painted a pale gray, reinforced beams overhead, bright emergency lights humming softly from the ceiling. Rows of metal shelves line one wall, stocked with water jugs, canned food, medical supplies, and blankets. There are cots along the far side, a small chemical toilet behind a curtain, and a sturdy table in the center with chairs bolted to the floor. It feels both safe and suffocating at the same time.
Harper moves first. She sets Poppi down on one of the cots and wraps a blanket around the little girl’s shoulders, murmuring soft words to calm her. Poppi’s eyes are wide and teary, butshe clutches her stuffed rabbit and stays quiet. Kayley settles Aidan on the floor with a pile of coloring books and crayons she must have grabbed on the way down. The little boy’s lower lip trembles, but he starts drawing shaky lines, trying to focus on the paper instead of the noises from above.
I look around at the other women. Hannah sits on the edge of a cot, arms wrapped around her knees, her face pale. Daisy paces slowly near the shelves, checking supplies even though we all know they’re already stocked. Emma stands by the small communication panel on the wall, fingers hovering over the buttons. Fiona leans against the table, jaw tight, eyes sharp as if she is ready to fight even from down here.
None of them panic. Their movements are practiced, efficient. They’ve done this before, or at least drilled for it. I feel like an outsider who brought the storm with her.
