Chapter 6 #2
I force myself back to the tactical assessment. Sight lines. Defensive positions. Anything except how attracted I am to her competence.
Finn appears in the doorway. "Your quarters are across from Traci's room. Helena's staying in the infirmary. Close enough for medical response if Traci needs her, separate enough to give everyone space."
Close quarters. Helena and I separated by one hallway, proximity that'll make avoiding whatever's building between us difficult. Smart positioning for Traci's security. Complicated for everything else.
I head to find Traci's room. Door's open. She's inside with Helena, standing at the window looking out at the forest.
“Traci, come over here. Let me show you how this works.” Helena's showing her how the lock works. "Interior mechanism only. You control who comes in. Nobody else has a key."
Traci tests it. Locks. Unlocks. Locks again. Satisfied that she has control.
"Your uncle's room is across the hall," Helena continues. "I'm in the infirmary. If you need anything, write it down and slide it under his door. Or come find me. Whatever feels safer."
Traci pulls out her notebook. Writes. Shows it to Helena.
What if they find us here?
"Then your uncle and the others will handle it.
That's their job. Your job is to stay safe and let the adults manage the threat.
" Helena's voice stays calm, matter-of-fact. "But Traci, I need you to trust something. For these people this isn’t their first rodeo. They’ve gone up against this network before, and so far, have prevailed.
They know how they operate, know how to stop them. You're not alone in this anymore."
Traci looks at me. Question in her eyes.
"What she said," I confirm. "They come here, they go through me first. And I'm very good at stopping people who need stopping."
Not reassurance. Just fact. Delta Force trains you to eliminate threats with maximum efficiency. Four years in the wilderness didn't erase that skillset. If anything, isolation sharpened it.
Traci nods slowly. Accepts this because it's concrete and tactical rather than empty promises.
Helena gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Unpack. Get comfortable. I'll be in the infirmary if you need me."
She heads toward the door. Pauses next to me.
Proximity closes the space between us—I catch her scent, something clean and professional with an edge of wilderness.
My body registers her nearness before my brain catches up.
"She's holding up better than expected. Giving her control over her space was the right call. "
"Cara knows trauma survivors."
"So do you." Helena meets my eyes. Direct assessment that cuts through every defense. "You're doing better than you think with her."
The observation lands like a hit. Like she's seeing past the tactical positioning into territory I don't let anyone examine. My jaw locks. "Just following protocol."
"Protocol doesn't teach you how to read what a traumatized kid needs. Experience does." She holds my gaze longer than necessary. Heat builds in the narrow space between us—awareness, recognition, pull I'm not equipped to handle. Then she moves past me into the hallway.
I watch her go. Watch the confident stride, the way she carries herself like someone who's navigated dangerous territory and came out intact. Completely unaware of how her presence keeps pulling my focus when I should be mapping defensive positions.
My tactical discipline is compromised. Has been since this morning when she climbed out of her vehicle and looked like none of this was anything new.
I head to my assigned quarters. Small room, bed, dresser, window positioned for defensive sight lines.
Gear goes in tactical arrangement—rifle within reach, ammunition accessible, escape route identified.
Same setup I maintained in the cabin. Same habits I learned in Delta Force and never unlearned.
Muscle memory. The kind that keeps you alive when conscious thought shuts down.
Traci appears in my doorway while I'm organizing ammunition. She doesn't knock, just stands there watching me work with those careful eyes.
I pause. "You need something?"
She pulls out her notebook and writes, then shows me.
This really is safer than the cabin?
"Yeah. Finn and Cara built this place to withstand serious threats. Motion sensors, reinforced structure, defensive positions. Anyone comes at us here; we'll see them long before they get close."
She considers this and writes again.
You know how to fight?
It's a direct question. It deserves a direct answer. "Yeah. I was Delta Force. Special ops. Trained to handle exactly the kind of people hunting you."
But you stopped.
"Medical discharge. Came back from deployment damaged. Spent four years in the wilderness trying to figure out how to function again." I meet her eyes. "But the training doesn't go away. The skills are still there when I need them."
She studies my face, looking for the lie, looking for weakness. Whatever she finds must satisfy her because she writes one more thing.
Okay. I believe you.
Then she's gone, back to her room. The door closes with the quiet click of the interior lock engaging.
It's small progress. But it's progress.
I finish organizing gear and head to the main room. Zeke's truck is pulling up outside—he and Rhys arriving for the strategy session. Time to coordinate defensive posture and figure out how to extract what Traci knows without breaking her.
Everyone gathers around the large table in the common area.
Zeke looking like the former SEAL team leader he is—controlled, assessing, running tactical calculations.
Rhys Blackwater in sheriff's uniform, third-generation law enforcement with the kind of instincts that come from growing up in the job.
Finn and Cara positioned together, a united front.
Helena listening, professional and focused.
I take a position where I can see all entrances and exits. It's an old habit, but my peripheral vision keeps tracking Helena's movements across the room even when I'm supposed to be focused on Zeke's briefing.
Zeke spreads a map of the region across the table. "Alright. Let's establish what we know and what we need to find out."
"Traci saw the Marshal," Helena says. "Three separate occasions when he came to inspect the trafficking house where they held her. She can provide positive identification."
"Which makes her the network's priority target," Rhys adds. "Gary Kern's been canvassing Glacier Hollow running reconnaissance. Former military contractor, dishonorable discharge, direct ties to Haywood's operations. He's not working alone."
Zeke marks locations on the map. "Kern's been asking questions about Eli and Traci at the café, the general store, the gas station. Methodical pattern. He's building intelligence for an operation."
"What's the federal response?" Cara asks.
"Briggs thinks we're cooperating with transport to the Anchorage safe house." Zeke's expression hardens. "By now he's probably figured out we ghosted him. That's going to create problems."
"Good," I say. "Federal safe houses leak. We trust our own security more than we trust channels the network can infiltrate."
"Agreed." Rhys points to Finn's compound on the map. "This position is defensible. But if they bring serious numbers, we'll need backup."
"How serious are we talking?" Finn asks.
"Professional contractors. Former military.
The kind of operators who don't quit until the target's eliminated or they're dead.
" Rhys pulls out his phone, shows surveillance photos.
"This is what they sent after Cara when she was hiding evidence against Haywood.
Four-man tactical team, ex-military, well-equipped.
They breached a defended position in under ten minutes. "
Cara's jaw tightens, as if the memory of that night is still sharp.
"So we prepare for at least four," I say. "Maybe more if they're treating Traci as high-priority elimination."
Zeke nods. "Perimeter defense, overlapping fields of fire, fallback positions if they breach the outer security. Finn, walk us through the compound's defensive capabilities."
Finn gestures to different areas on a hand-drawn schematic of the compound.
"Motion sensors at the perimeter, overlapping coverage, no blind spots.
Main building has reinforced walls, defensive firing positions from upper windows.
Workshop connects to an emergency trail into the forest if we need to evacuate.
Solar power with battery backup means we're not dependent on grid infrastructure they could cut. "
"Armament?" Zeke asks.
"Two AR-15s, hunting rifles with scopes for long-range engagement, shotguns for close quarters, sufficient ammunition for sustained defense. Cara and I have trained together. We know the positions."
"Good." Zeke looks at me. "You've got Delta Force experience. What's your assessment?"
I study the schematic and run scenarios. "Defensible against direct assault. Vulnerable to siege tactics if they have patience and numbers. Our advantage is terrain knowledge and defensive preparation. Their advantage is operational flexibility and professional training."
"Recommendations?"
"Establish watch rotations. Two people minimum at all times monitoring perimeter sensors. Pre-position ammunition at defensive firing points. Clear fields of fire, verify no dead zones they can exploit. Run evacuation drills so everyone knows the emergency protocols."
Rhys makes notes. "I can coordinate backup response from Whitewater Junction. If you trip perimeter alarms, I can have tactical team here in under an hour."
"That's too long if they breach," I say. "We need to hold for at least ninety minutes to give you time to stage."
"Can you hold that long?"
I look at Finn. At Cara. At the defensive positions they've built. "Yeah. We can hold."