11
ELI
Federal backup won't reach us in time. Evacuating Traci to a secure location means exposing her on the road. We fortify what we have and prepare to hold the line when Graves comes with everything left in his arsenal.
I'm moving through Finn's compound, cataloging defensive positions. The northern approach first—most likely attack vector given the terrain. Natural choke point where the access road narrows between two rock outcroppings. Good kill box if we position correctly.
Finn's already out there, adjusting motion sensors and checking sight lines. Former MEDEVAC pilot who can't fly anymore but still thinks like someone who used to extract casualties under fire. Angles, exposure, how terrain shapes survival—he understands all of it.
"Range markers every twenty meters." He points to reflective tape on trees. "Sensors are live. Anything moving triggers alerts to the main console."
I nod. "Overlapping fields of fire from the upper windows?"
"Yeah. Two positions—east and west sides of the main building. Clear lanes down the northern approach and into the clearing."
Zeke's inside coordinating communications with federal prosecutors. Getting Traci's testimony and Cara's evidence uploaded to multiple secure servers. Making sure if we don't survive these next hours, our case against Graves survives us.
Cara's setting up her laptop in the communications room. Her former FBI experience means she knows how to coordinate defensive operations. She'll monitor sensors, manage communications, provide backup fire if needed.
Four of us against however many contractors Graves mobilized. Helena and Traci stay in the infirmary—the most defensible interior position with reinforced walls and a single entry point.
The odds in a defensive position aren't terrible. Terrain favors us. We know this ground. They're coming to us, exposed during approach. Standard asymmetric advantage if we use it right.
But Graves has resources. Federal-grade equipment. Operatives who do this for money, which means they're experienced enough not to make stupid mistakes.
Amateurs with shotguns would be manageable. What's coming will be a coordinated assault by people who know how to breach hardened positions.
I head back inside. Traci's in the infirmary with Helena. Vitals get checked, movements efficient and calm from years of trauma work. She glances up when I enter, and even now—even with combat coming—my body registers her presence. The way she moves. The competence in those hands.
Not the time. Push it down.
"How is she?"
"Stable. Resting." Helena's voice stays level but tension lives in her shoulders. Awareness sits there too—in hours this compound becomes a battlefield and her job shifts fromgathering testimony to treating casualties. "Zeke said the evidence is uploaded?"
"Multiple servers. Redundant backups. Even if they breach, our case survives."
"That's not particularly comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be comforting. Was meant to be tactical reality."
She studies my face. Looking for something—reassurance maybe, or certainty that we'll make it through. I don't give her either because I learned long ago not to make promises the field might force me to break.
What I give her instead is truth. "When they come, you stay in here with Traci. The infirmary's the most defensible interior position. Reinforced walls, single entry point, clear fields of fire from the doorway. If they breach the outer perimeter, you fall back to the reinforced storage room. If they breach that, you take Traci through the emergency exit—workshop connects to a trail into the forest. Cara showed her the routes."
"And if they get past all of that?"
"Use the Glock you brought with you and don't hesitate… Chest shots. Multiple rounds. Don't stop until the threat's down."
Helena picks up the weapon. Her hands know what to do—proper grip, trigger discipline, muzzle awareness. She's not comfortable with it, but she's competent. That'll have to be enough.
"I've never shot anyone," she says quietly.
"You will if they get past us. And you won't regret it because whoever comes through that door won't be here to negotiate." I hold her gaze. I let her see exactly what I'm capable of. What I'm about to become when those contractors arrive. "This is survival. Nothing more complicated."
She nods. Sets the Glock within reach but not where Traci might see it when she wakes. We maintain professional distance even now, both of us compartmentalizing what happened between us because the situation requires it.
Doesn't stop the awareness. Her pulse jumping when I'm close. Her breathing changes too—quick and shallow, tells me last night's still right there under the surface despite the tactical mask she's wearing. Heat pools low in my gut. Memory of exactly how her skin tastes.
