Chapter Twelve #2
Movement beyond the perimeter could mean anything.
Migrants. Vagrants. Local traffickers checking for weak spots.
But this was Marcel’s ground, and he knew who moved across it.
If he believed someone was testing response times, then that was the working assumption.
Marcel wasn’t rattled. He was a man who could stand toe-to-toe with cartel butchers and never give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
That only told me he was concerned enough to hide it.
Recon would return soon. He had men on the fences.
All reassuring, but it also meant he didn’t like what he’d heard enough to act.
I ran through the compound’s layout in my head as I walked, mapping routes from the adobe, the Longhouse, the commissary, and the playground to the bunker Liis had shown us the night before, gauging timing at night and mid-day, tracking sightlines from the windows, and noting weapons placement.
If this turned hot, seconds would matter, and confusion could mean death.
I had spent too many years learning that lesson in rooms that smelled like cordite and blood.
Out here, it would smell like dirt, diesel, and panic, but the math stayed the same.
By the time I reached the porch, the sun had broken over the eastern ridge. It cut low across the compound and caught in the dust hanging over the road, turning it gold for half a second before it was scattered by a shift in wind. I opened the door quietly and stepped inside.
The adobe held the cool from the night. Clay walls, concrete floor, the faint smell of coffee wafting from the kitchen, detergent, and baby soap.
Stella’s blanket was draped over one end of the couch, one tiny sock lying on the floor beside it.
Most likely, she’d kicked it free at some point, and no one had bothered to put it back on her busy foot.
Liis stood at the kitchen island in a worn navy-blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants, a knife in one hand, mindlessly slicing a banana onto a plate, her dark ponytail listing to one side from sleep.
She glanced up when I came in and offered a tired smile, but once her eyes met mine, her expression changed.
“Bad news?” she asked.
“Maybe. Marcel’s on it. We’ll know more soon.” I glanced down at the banana, then at Stella’s empty highchair. “She’s still asleep?”
She nodded in disbelief. “I’m sure she’ll be up any second, but I think it’s the time change. Maybe the heat? She took an extra-long nap yesterday, too.”
“You think she’s getting sick?”
“God, I hope not. Do they have a pediatrician here?”
“After seeing the bunker, I’m pretty sure they have everything here.”
“So, you spoke with Marcel?”
I set my coffee mug on the counter. “I did. There’s been some movement outside the perimeter before dawn. Could be nothing.”
“You think it’s them, though?”
“Marcel does.”
“So, it’s them. Do they know how many?”
“Recon was deployed.” I pressed my lips to her temple in an effort to reassure her. “We’ll know more soon, sweetheart.”
She pulled away slightly. “What direction?”
“Liis…”
She let the knife fall into the sink. “Our only child is here, Thomas. Our nieces and nephews. I know we came here for safety; it’s the safest place we could possibly be, and it’s also our last bastion. If this place falls…”
“It won’t.”
“You hope. You don’t know.”
“Honey, hear me when I say this. In no scenario will the Carlisis overwhelm a militia compound of this size and capability. This isn’t just the best place for us to keep the kids safe; it’s also the best place for us to wipe them out once and for all.
What I hope is that they knock on Marcel’s door looking for a fight. They’ll be pink mist by lunch.”
She gauged my expression for a moment, for one tiny chink in my armor, and when she found no sign of doubt, she nodded once, grabbed the knife again and turned Stella’s plate sideways, slicing the banana into smaller chunks as if organizing breakfast and incoming risk belonged in the same category. With Liis, sometimes they did.
“Did he raise alert status?” she asked, trying to casually slide in another question without notice.
“Not camp wide. They’re ready, but he doesn’t want rumors moving faster than facts. The compound still has to function with the day-to-day. He’s just… not ruling it out.”
“But they’re here.”
“I think so.”
“So, it’ll happen soon.”
I tilted my head slightly, watching my wife with sympathy. Liis didn’t spook. She’d walked into worse without blinking, held her ground when other agents folded. Nerves weren’t something I’d ever seen affect her. But this was different. This time, it wasn’t just us on the line.
My hand closed over hers, stilling the knife before it could finish another cut. I eased it from her grip and set it aside, then pulled her in—firm, close, and without asking. “I’d let you stab me with this knife before I’d let anything happen to our little girl. You know that, right?”
“What I know is that horrible things happen every day. Even to the most prepared,” she said, her voice muffled against my shirt.
“Not to us. And not today.”
Her eyes flicked toward the back room, then back to me. “I put a bugout bag by the door, but I’d feel better if Marcel allowed us our sidearms.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“Seconds will count. We can’t waste time retrieving our Glocks, making sure they’re loaded and ready.”
“Understood.”
She squeezed me. “Mothers have lifted entire cars off their children. I can save her from a few dozen mafia goons.”
I gently pinched her chin between my thumb and finger, guiding her gaze to mine. “You’re not doing this alone.”
She stepped back and nodded, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and then perching her hands on her hips, more to reassure herself than me. “We’ll keep her safe. We’ll keep them all safe.”
“You’re damn right we will,” I said with a wink. It earned me a ghost of a smile from my wife.
A small sound came from the back room, a sleepy rustle against sheets, then silence again. Both of us turned our heads and waited. When nothing followed, Liis lowered her voice.
“If they breach the perimeter, we don’t wait for instruction. We move.”
“Roger that,” I answered.
“If you’re not here when it happens, I’ll take her myself then get into position.”
“Yes, Liis. We’ve got a plan. We’ll stick to it. She’ll be safe under a quarter mile of sand and concrete behind a reinforced blast door. Nothing’s getting in there.”
She held my gaze another beat, making sure I meant it, making sure I wasn’t about to hedge or run contingencies, seeing only certainty that we’d walk out of this alive.
She nodded once more, setting the plate on Stella’s highchair tray. “These bastards better have brought a priest.”
“There she is,” I said, kissing her cheek.
I picked up the carafe and refreshed my coffee, taking another sip.
Liis opened one of the cabinets, pulling down a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread.
I knew her enough to know in those few seconds, she was already ten steps ahead, already inside the plan, turning it over, stripping it to parts, looking for failure points.
It was one of the first things I’d respected about her, long before I knew what to do with anything I felt.
I put down my coffee and stared past the thin curtains over the sink, wincing at the sun shining through.
Dust moved in the beam, slow and aimless.
Outside, voices passed the house and faded, the brief crackle of a radio check, then silence.
The whole place felt like it was inhaling and holding its breath.
My shoulders had gone from tight to aching somewhere between Marcel’s office and the kitchen. I rolled one back and felt the knot drag across the muscle.