Chapter 13 - Fire in the Pines
The deafening crack of the high-caliber rifle shattered the mountain silence, echoing off the jagged canyon walls like rolling thunder.
The lead operator spun backward, dropping the metal-cutting charge as he hit the frozen gravel, his tactical vest absorbing the kinetic shock but knocking him entirely out of the fight.
"Contact! Sector four!" the second operator barked into his shoulder comm, instantly diving behind the reinforced oak pillars of the front porch while bringing his suppressed carbine up to sweep the tree line.
Muzzle flashes erupted from the porch, chewing the bark off the pine trees inches above my head with a series of sharp, angry snaps. Wood splinters rained down on my shoulders as I ducked lower behind the boulder, reloading with cold, practiced precision.
They had thermal optics. Staying behind a stationary rock for long was a death sentence.
I scrambled low, crawling twenty yards through the wet brush toward an old logging trail that flanked the western side of the ridge. From there, I could loop around behind the cabin and catch them in a crossfire before they realized how few defenders they were actually facing.
Clack-clack.
Footsteps crunched heavily on the gravel near the back kitchen window.
"Clear the perimeter! Find the drive or burn the structure!" a harsh voice hissed over the open radio frequency.
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They were going inside. They were going to the girls' room.
A blinding surge of pure, primal fury washed away every trace of caution. I rose from the brush, shouldered the rifle, and sprinted down the ridge directly toward the back porch.
