“Working on it,” Sterling replied.
There was a moment of weighted silence as the two alphas sized each other up—Rawley with his commander’s assessing gaze, Sterling with the blank-faced readiness that had kept him alive through situations that would have killed most men twice.Then Rawley nodded, some unspoken communication passing between them.
“Perimeter?” he asked, shifting seamlessly into operational mode.
“Four cameras, motion-activated,” I answered. “Infrared on the north and east approaches where the tree line comes closest to the house.”
“Response time?” Sterling cut in.
“Thirty seconds from alert to armed,” Rawley said. “Macon’s got the main house. Carter and Jojo and the babies are staying at his place until this is resolved.”
Sterling nodded, processing. “Safe room?”
“Basement,” I said. “Reinforced door, separate exit, three days’ supplies. Cell signal booster.”
“And extraction?” Sterling’s eyes flicked to Danny. “If it comes to that.”
“Helicopter pad on the south forty,” Rawley answered. “Pilot on standby, twenty-minute notice.”
The conversation continued in that clipped, efficient shorthand that had been drilled into us through years of military service—layered defenses, response scenarios, contingency plans.
I found myself falling into the rhythm easily, muscle memory taking over as we moved pieces around an invisible chessboard, planning for threats that hadn’t materialized yet.
Throughout it all, Sterling remained perfectly still except for his eyes, which never stopped moving—checking doorframes, windows, the angle of the hallway leading to the front of the house.
He set his coffee mug down without a sound when he’d finished, the ceramic meeting the countertop with such precise control that it might as well have been made of feathers.
I’d seen him do the same thing with explosives, with wounded teammates, with enemy combatants who needed to be subdued without alerting their friends. Total control, absolute focus. The kind that made him worth every penny of his exorbitant fee—though I’d never insult him by offering money for a family favor.
Danny had retreated to the edge of the room as our planning grew more intense, watching with careful eyes as the three of us moved around the kitchen like pieces on that invisible board. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask questions, just observed with the wary attention of someone who’d learned that knowledge was survival.
I caught his eye across the room, offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile. He returned it, small but genuine, one hand coming to rest on the gentle curve of his stomach. The gesture wasn‘t lost on Sterling, whose gaze tracked the movement with that same calculating focus he’d shown everything else.
“We’ll need to rotate watches,” Rawley was saying. “Macon’s taking first shift at the main house. I’ll cover 0200 to 0600 here.”
“I’ll take nights,” Sterling said. “2100 to 0500.”
I shook my head. “You just HALO’d in from God knows where. You need sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when he’s handled,” Sterling replied, tone making it clear the discussion was over.
Rawley and I exchanged glances. Arguing with Sterling when his mind was made up was like arguing with gravity—technically possible but ultimately pointless.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But you’re crashing in the guest room after this. No arguments.”
Sterling’s mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close. “Yes, sir,” he said, the faintest hint of teasing in his voice.
The planning continued as the night stretched toward morning—sleep schedules, communication protocols, the exact wording we’d use if things went sideways.
Through it all, Danny remained at the periphery, silent but present, his eyes moving between us as we laid out the architecture of his protection.
It struck me, suddenly, how strange this must look to him—three ex-military men discussing the elimination of a threat in the same kitchen where we’d shared meals, celebrated birthdays, built a life together. How the same hands that had held him so gently were now calmly planning for violence. How the man who’d sworn to protect him was calmly discussing body counts with his identical twin.
But Danny didn’t look afraid. If anything, there was a quiet determination in his expression as he watched us work—a recognition, perhaps, that this was what family did. They showed up. They stood their ground. They made sure nothing and no one could hurt what was theirs.
And as the first gray light of dawn began to seep through the kitchen windows, turning the world outside from black to the soft gray of early morning, I felt something settle in my chest—a certainty that had been missing since that day at the courthouse.
We would protect what was ours. Whatever it took.
