8
HELENA
The compound settles into uneasy quiet after the reconnaissance.
I check on Traci, keeping things as calm as possible despite the tension still humming through the walls. She’s changed into her sleep clothes but has positioned her backpack within arm's reach of the bed. Survival habits that won't fade just because we tell her she's safe.
"They're gone for now," I say. "Your uncle drove them off. Tomorrow we'll reassess security."
She pulls out her notebook and writes:Will they come back?
"Probably. But not tonight. They got what they came for. Now they need time to plan their next move."
She nods, accepting it because it was honest. Traci deserves truth even when it's uncomfortable.
Can I lock my door?
"Of course. You control your space. Always."
Relief flickers across her face. She tests the lock as she did before until she’s satisfied.
I head back toward the infirmary. The main room shows signs of tactical debrief. Maps spread across the table. Finn andCara discussing approach vectors. Eli outside running another perimeter check even though the motion sensors would alert him to any movement.
That's the thing about operatives, they can't fully trust technology. They need visual confirmation even when logic says it's unnecessary.
Checking medical supplies and readiness is a habit. The trauma kit I brought from my practice sits ready. I inventory the equipment, verify we have what we'd need if the next assault goes worse than reconnaissance. Bandages, antibiotics, surgical tools for field medicine. The quiet work keeps my hands busy while my mind processes everything that happened tonight.
Eli with his violence barely leashed. The operator David used to be, except Eli's fighting not to lose himself in it. That's the difference between them. David embraced what he became in the field. Eli's terrified of it.
I respect that fear. It means he's still human underneath the tactical training.
Footsteps in the hallway. Cara appears in the doorway.
"Helena. Got a minute?"
"Of course."
She closes the door behind her. Her expression is serious. "Rhys sent updated intel. The reconnaissance tonight was exactly what we thought. Probing defenses, mapping our security. But there's more."
"What kind of more?"
"His contact in Anchorage PD intercepted radio chatter during the retreat. They're planning a full assault. Soon. Not clear when, but soon. They're mobilizing reinforcements from outside the area." Cara leans against the counter. "We need to know what Traci saw. Need names, descriptions, anything that helps us identify the Marshal before they come back in force."
My stomach drops. "She's not ready for that kind of interrogation."
"I know. But we're running out of time." Cara's voice softens. "I've worked with trafficking survivors. I know how to be gentle. But gentle or not, we need that information. If we can identify the Marshal, if we can get federal resources mobilized against him specifically, we cut the head off this operation before it comes for Traci again."
"When?"
"Tomorrow morning. After she's rested. With you there to support her." She holds my gaze. "I'm sorry. I know it's not ideal. But we don't have the luxury of waiting until she's fully recovered."
"She may never be fully recovered from what they did to her."
"I know. But she's strong. Stronger than she realizes." Cara straightens. "Talk to Eli. Make sure he understands why we're doing this. He's going to want to protect her from the questions but protecting her means getting ahead of the threat."
She leaves. I stand in the infirmary surrounded by supplies for treating violence and think about a seventeen-year-old girl who survived hell only to find herself still hunted.
The compound goes quiet as people settle into watch rotation. Finn takes first shift on the perimeter. Cara monitors communications. Traci's light goes out; the door locked from the inside.
