She's close now. I can see every line around her eyes. The absolute certainty in her expression that says she believes what she's telling me. The gray in her dark hair catching the dim light. The way she's looking at me like she sees past the operator to something underneath.
My pulse kicks up. Awareness that has nothing to do with threat assessment and everything to do with the woman standing close enough to touch, offering something I stopped believing I deserved years ago.
"Helena—"
Alarm screams through the compound. Perimeter sensors tripping. Lights flashing red on the security panel.
Training takes over. I'm at the panel fast. Multiple contacts. East sector. Moving with purpose toward the compound.
Finn bursts through the door. Armed. Alert. "Multiple contacts. Advancing on the east perimeter. Tactical movement pattern."
"Reconnaissance," I say. "They're probing defenses."
Helena's already moving toward the secure wing. Watching her shift into crisis mode—calm, competent, no hesitation—sends heat through me even as I'm calculating threat vectors.
"I'll stay with Traci."
"Lock the door from inside," I tell her.
"Understood."
She disappears down the hall. I grab my rifle from where it's positioned near the door. Chamber's loaded. Always is.
Cara emerges from the communications room, phone pressed to her ear. "Rhys, we've got multiple contacts probing the east perimeter. Tactical movement." Pause while she listens."Copy that. How long?" Another pause. "Understood. We'll hold position." She lowers the phone. "He's mobilizing response from Whitewater Junction. Under an hour."
"Too long if this escalates." I move to the east window. Darkness makes identification difficult, but the movement patterns tell me everything I need to know. Figures in tactical gear moving through the forest. Coordinated spacing. Disciplined advance. Not civilians.
They stop at a distance. One pulls out equipment—radio or scanning device. They're checking for security systems. Mapping our defensive coverage.
Finn takes position at the northwest window. "Standard reconnaissance pattern. Probe defenses, map security layout, withdraw and plan the actual assault."
"Timeline estimate?"
"Depends how fast they can mobilize reinforcements and finalize their approach plan."
I track the figures visually. They're consulting now. One gestures toward the compound. Planning something.
Then they withdraw. Backing off into the forest. Disappearing into the darkness like they were never there.
"Contacts retreating," I report. "Reconnaissance complete."
"Copy that," Finn says. "They got what they came for."
Which means they now know our security perimeter. Know we're prepared. Know this won't be an easy target.
Next time they come, it'll be with more numbers and better planning.
I stay at the window. Watching. Waiting. Making sure they don't circle back.
Footsteps behind me. Helena's voice, quiet. "Tracy is okay. For now. Are they gone?"
"For now. They were running reconnaissance. Mapping our defenses."
"So they're coming back."
"Yeah. They're coming back."
Helena moves beside me. Near enough that I catch her scent again—clean with that edge of wilderness. Her presence registers even though I'm still tracking the forest for movement. Not afraid. Just assessing the threat with the same calm competence she brings to everything.
