Chapter 91 Havoc
Havoc
The farm is dark.
Too dark.
No lights.
No movement.
No sound.
But that doesn’t mean it’s empty.
I kill the engine.
The vehicle behind us follows.
Silence drops fast.
Heavy.
Controlled.
“Hold,” I say.
No one moves.
Not yet.
Because this?
This is where people get sloppy.
This is where people die.
I step out first.
Scan.
Tree line.
Fence.
Barn.
There.
My focus locks onto it immediately.
The barn.
Old.
Weathered.
Shadowed.
Too quiet.
Deserted, since I took them to the Last Stand Tavern.
Aspen steps out beside me before I can stop her.
“Stay close,” I murmur.
“I will.”
I believe her.
But that doesn’t mean I relax.
Not even a little.
“Set perimeter,” I order.
The team moves instantly.
CIA spreads too.
Too close.
Too coordinated.
I don’t like it.
Not one bit.
“Barn first,” I say.
No argument this time.
Good.
Because I wasn’t asking.
The door creaks when I push it open.
Loud in the silence.
Inside—
Dust floats in the air.
Moonlight cuts through broken slats.
Everything still.
Everything untouched.
But I feel it.
That edge again.
Something’s here.
Or was.
Aspen steps in beside me.
Her breath catches slightly.
“This place…”
“Focus,” I say quietly.
She nods.
Shakes it off.
Strong.
Always strong.
“Boards,” she whispers.
I glance down.
Wood floor.
Old.
Uneven.
Some are darker than others.
Some worn.
Some…
Wrong.
We’ve been here for twenty minutes, and Aspen looks at me.
“There,” she says suddenly.
Points.
Near the back wall.
I move first.
Crouch.
Press down lightly with my boot.
Solid.
Then shift slightly—
A faint hollow sound.
There it is.
I kneel.
Run my hand along the edge.
Find it.
The seam.
Not obvious.
Not unless you’re looking.
“Help me,” I say.
Briggs is there instantly.
We pry the board loose.
Slow.
Careful.
No noise.
No rush.
Because this?
This matters.
The wood lifts.
And beneath it—
Dark space.
Hidden.
Deliberate.
My pulse kicks.
I reach in.
Pull something out.
Metal.
Cold.
Weathered.
A box.
Not new.
Not obvious.
Not digital.
Old-school.
Just like I thought.
Behind me—
“That’s it,” Aspen breathes.
Yeah.
It is.
I set it on the floor.
Everyone gathers closer.
Even the CIA.
I feel them.
Watching.
Waiting.
Hungry.
I don’t open it right away.
Instead—
I look at Aspen.
Her eyes are locked on it.
Fear.
Hope.
Everything in between.
“You ready?” I ask.
She nods.
Barely.
I open the box.
Inside—
Oilcloth.
Wrapped tight.
Protected.
I unfold it slowly.
And there it is.
Maps.
Hand-drawn.
Detailed.
Precise.
Marked routes.
Tunnels.
Drop points.
Movement lines across counties… states…
My stomach drops.
“Holy hell…” Briggs mutters.
But that’s not the worst part.
Not even close.
Because written along the edges—
Names.
Important ones.
Recognizable ones.
Political.
Powerful.
Untouchable.
Until now.
Aspen steps closer.
Hand covering her mouth.
“This… this can’t be real…”
It is.
And we all know it.
Then—
A piece of paper slips free.
Falls to the ground.
I pick it up.
Unfold it.
And everything in me goes still.
Because I know that handwriting.
Tank.
I read it once.
Then again.
Slower.
Letting it settle.
Then I look at Aspen.
And I say the words that change everything—
“He knew he wasn’t coming back.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Because this?
This isn’t just evidence.
This is a warning.
And whoever’s behind this—
Is a lot bigger than we thought.
And now?
Now we have something they’ll burn the world to get back.