Later. If we survive, there's later.
I force myself to move. Put space between us before I do something stupid like pull her against me right here in the infirmary.
Cara's at her laptop coordinating with federal contacts. Screens show encrypted communications, tactical overlays, real-time updates from the sensors Finn deployed. She's got this compound networked like a military operations center.
"DOJ confirms they received everything," she says without looking up. "Federal warrants are being prepared for Graves. But the timeline's still days."
"Won't matter if he eliminates Traci before the warrants execute."
"I know." Her fingers move across the keyboard. "I've also sent everything to three different investigative journalists with instructions to publish if we go dark for more than twenty-four hours. Insurance policy."
Smart. Graves might risk a federal firefight to silence one witness, but he won't risk nationwide media exposure. The publication threat keeps him from disappearing all evidence even if he takes us out.
Zeke enters from outside, snow dusting his shoulders. "The perimeter's locked down. Finn's positioned at the window, I'lltake the eastern approach. Cara monitors sensors from the communications room."
"What about the southern route?"
"Too steep for vehicle access and the sensors will catch foot traffic. If they try that approach, we'll have plenty of warning."
I pull up the tactical overlay on Cara's screen. The compound sits in a natural defensive bowl with limited access points. The northern approach is the primary threat. The eastern flank is secondary. The western side butts up against a cliff face that makes assault from that direction nearly impossible.
Standard defensive setup would put shooters covering the primary approach with supporting positions on the secondary vectors. Which is exactly what we've done.
But Graves didn't survive this long by being predictable.
"He'll probe defenses first." I'm thinking through how I'd run this assault from the other side. "Test response, identify positions, look for weak points. Hit us with everything at once after that. Coordinated breach designed to overwhelm multiple positions simultaneously."
Zeke nods. "How do we counter?"
"We don't take the bait during the probe. Hold fire, stay concealed, let them think we're softer than we are. When they commit to the main assault, we hit them in the kill box with overlapping fields of fire before they can establish a foothold."
"And if they bypass the kill box?"
"Fall back to the secondary positions and make them pay for every meter of ground." I look at Zeke, at Cara. "This is going to get ugly. They're skilled operatives. Body armor, suppressed weapons, coordinated movement. We might take casualties."
"Understood," Zeke says.
Cara doesn't respond. Just keeps typing, uploading more evidence, building more redundancy. Making sure even if we all die in these next hours, Graves doesn't walk away clean.
My radio crackles. Finn's voice, low and controlled. "Movement on the northern approach. Two vehicles. Dark SUVs. Stopped about half a klick out."
"Visual on personnel?"
"Negative. Tinted windows. But they're doing exactly what you said—probing. Checking sight lines, looking for defensive positions."
"Hold fire. Let them look."
I move to the window facing north. Can't see the vehicles from here, but I can see the narrow section of access road where they'll have to commit if they want to reach the compound. Perfect chokepoint. Perfect kill box.
My hands remember the weight of an M4. Controlled recoil. Muscle memory of target acquisition and fire discipline that got drilled into me through thousands of repetitions until it became reflex instead of thought.
Been years since I let myself drop fully back into that headspace. Years of isolation. Building control. Managing what the field made me. Keeping the operational mindset locked down where it can't poison everything else.
But right now, with Traci in the infirmary and Helena preparing to defend her and contractors probing our defenses, the walls come down.
The SUVs pull back. Retreat down the access road until they're out of sensor range.
"They're repositioning," Finn reports. "Probably calling for backup or coordinating approach vectors."
