Page 83 of Breached

“Get into your positions,” Cole ordered into his radio once I finished talking. “Mark, go fill in Mike and Keith.” As Mark left, Cole pulled me away and placed a hand on my shoulder. “I know that look well, brother. Channel all of it as fuel. Stop these fuckers from ever hurting them again.”

I nodded, getting myself in check. “Copy.”

“Good. You know what you have to do.”

I nodded.

Everyone knew their assigned place in the house. They were scattered around, out of sight from the outside, but close enough that they could see one another so they could signal. I waited, tucked in close to the bar. I could see Mark tucked in a corner of the kitchen facing toward the dining room doors, and I knew he had a clear shot of the front entry.

The power was cut, the place was silent, and a stillness fell over us as we waited. The glass on the paintings and photos on the wall had been removed for a multitude of reasons, one being we didn’t want them to out our locations, and the second was that we didn’t want to risk any sunlight that could blind our snipers. We hadn’t expected they would strike at night, though we had prepared for every contingency. Bruno was highly unpredictable. Our familiarity with the Montana terrain gave us the upper hand, especially in the dark, but he had surprised us with the timing of the attack. Thank God for Guardian’s abilities.

Olivia’s Halloween dance photo hung across from me, and I could make out her sweet smile behind her face makeup. I thought how cute she looked as a sunflower. I rolled my head to see the mantel and looked at Grandpa Logan on his horse as he rode by the edge of the lake in front of Shadows. He wore a long brown leather coat and a brown cowboy hat, and I could see Cole wading in the water as he trailed behind him, pants pulled up to his knees and a dog at his side. It was such a simple photo—of a simpler time.

As I leaned against the bar, a strange prickle started in my fingertips, then moved up my spine, to my neck, but before I could pinpoint it…

Boom!

The deck attached to the dining room blew up into a million pieces. The sliding doors flexed inward then outward, but the specially designed glass held as they absorbed the force.

“I need eyes!” Cole yelled into the radio.

Keith was the first to speak up. “I can’t see anything.”

“Me either,” Mike added. “I’m following the direction it came from, but I don’t see a launcher.”

“West!” I ordered. “Is Guardian helping the snipers?”

“Yes, he’s there,” he assured me.

“Well, something’s off. Get a B-3 drone in the sky and see what you can see,” I ordered. If Guardian was helping the snipers, how the hell was an RPG getting past the little guy?

“Copy!” He quickly launched one of the little drones from the back yard with his phone. “She’s up. Give me a few and I’ll report back.”

Boom!

This time, the wall behind me was hit, and I was sure fucking glad we’d removed any bottles from the shelf.

“We have movement,” Keith called in. “They’re at the south gate. No sign of Bruno yet.”

“Copy,” Cole answered. “Stay in position, boys. Mike, find me that launcher.”

“I’m looking.” Mike grunted like he was moving around.

Boom!

Another hit, and this time it was the roof, and the chimney sprayed down rock.

“Cole!” I yelled. “We have to take out that launcher or the house will collapse on us.”

“Make the call! Use one of our Southern B1 warriors. I will not lose everything we have to those fuckers!” Cole yelled as the ringing in my ears became overpowering.

I called out to West. “Send one of the fire drones out and find and destroy that fucking RPG!”

“On it, sir!” We had decided it would be risky to use one of our high-powered weaponized drones, but given the storm outside and the sheer amount of rainfall, it was worth the risk. No trees could possibly catch on fire.

“How did the drone not pick up on this RPG?” Mark hissed.

I didn’t reply. The Guardian was good—excellent, in fact—but it couldn’t do it all. Besides, it hadn’t been perfected yet. Loud bangs could be heard, but this time I knew it was Mother Nature—a higher power wanting to take charge.