14. Evie
EVIE
The first helicopter sweeps over the compound.
Then the second.
A third moves toward the western ravine, sealing the only route Rook’s team can use without crossing open ground.
“They’re herding them,” I say.
Caleb studies the aircraft through his scope. “Yes.”
“So we find another route.”
“No.”
I look at him. “No?”
“We use the one they gave us.”
“The ravine?”
“Yes.”
“The one they’re deliberately forcing everyone toward?”
“They expect us to recognize the trap and avoid it.”
I stare at him.
“And since we recognize that they expect us to recognize it…”
“We go west.”
“Your mind is terrifying.”
“I’ve been told that.”
We move along the ridge, staying beneath the tree line as Rook, Cobra, Fathom, and Mac fight toward us below.
Gunfire follows them through the trees.
Fathom clutches the padded case against his chest.
The stolen drives.
The only surviving proof of the First Circle.
A helicopter banks toward the western ravine.
Too low.
Too confident.
Caleb settles behind his rifle.
He isn’t aiming at the aircraft.
He’s aiming at the cliff above it.
“What are you doing?”
“Opening the route.”
“That cliff is over the route.”
“I know.”
He fires.
The round strikes a fractured seam in the limestone.
For one heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then the mountain moves.
A shelf of rock breaks away from the cliff. Boulders crash into the lower ravine, snapping trees and throwing dust into the air.
The pilot jerks upward.
The helicopter barely clears the falling rock.
Caleb’s radio crackles.
Rook’s voice comes through. “The west route is blocked.”
“It is now.”
“We’re changing direction.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“It’s what I would do.”
Cobra’s voice cuts in. “Did our sniper just trap us on purpose?”
“He closed the lower ravine,” Rook answers. “Not the upper trail.”
Caleb points toward a narrow ledge above the falling debris.
The rockslide has concealed it from the compound.
“You didn’t block their escape.”
“No.”
“You hid it.”
“Yes.”
I laugh softly. “You weaponized the mountain.”
“It was already a weapon. I introduced it to them.”
The helicopters pull away from the wall of dust.
Rook’s team disappears into it.
Walter’s men lose sight of them.
For forty-five precious seconds, Shadow Division vanishes.
Caleb stands and reaches for my hand.
“We move.”
We descend toward the upper trail.
The slope is so steep I have to grab branches to keep from sliding. Caleb stays close enough to catch me, even though blood has soaked through the bandage beneath his jacket.
“You’re hurt worse than you said.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“No, I’m not.”
“That may be the biggest lie yet.”
His mouth almost curves.
A bullet strikes the tree above us.
Caleb pulls me into the shelter of a boulder.
Three mercenaries emerge through the dust below.
One sees us.
He raises his rifle.
I fire first.
The bullet strikes his thigh.
He falls with a shout.
Caleb turns toward me.
I keep my pistol trained on the man.
“You said I knew how to shoot.”
“I remember.”
The second mercenary charges up the slope.
Caleb fires.
His round strikes the ground in front of the man, spraying dirt into his face. Before he can recover, Rook emerges through the dust and drives him into the rocks.
Cobra appears behind him and takes down the third.
Then Fathom climbs onto the trail.
Mac follows last.
He looks terrible.
His face is bruised. His wrists are bloody, and every step appears painful.
But his eyes remain alert.
Calculating.
He notices me standing beside Caleb.
“So you’re Evelyn Hart.”
“Evie.”
“You’ve caused considerable trouble.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Cobra climbs past him. “Careful, Mac. She shoots people.”
“The man was trying to kill us.”
“I’m not criticizing.”
Rook’s attention goes to Caleb’s bloody side.
“How bad?”
“Fine.”
I answer at the same time. “He needs stitches.”
Caleb looks at me.
Rook almost smiles. “We’ll go with her answer.”
Fathom sets down the padded case and checks his tablet.
“I copied every drive I could reach before the purge finished.”
“How much survived?” I ask.
“Approximately thirty percent.”
My heart sinks. “That’s all?”
“It may be enough. The files weren’t erased in order. I have recruitment records, financial transfers, assassination directives, and part of the First Circle membership archive.”
“Can you open them?”
“Eventually.”
“How long?”
“If they used the encryption I think they did, a few hours.”
Cobra laughs. “So, Tuesday?”
Fathom rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”
Mac leans against a tree.
Rook hands him a canteen but keeps his weapon positioned where Mac can see it.
“I suppose this doesn’t mean we’re friends,” Mac says.
Cobra snorts. “Don’t push your luck.”
Mac drinks, then looks at the evidence case.
“If Graves knows you have those drives, he won’t stop.”
“He already isn’t,” I say.
Mac’s gaze shifts to me. “You still don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“He doesn’t have to stop you himself.”
Fathom’s tablet begins chirping.
Satellite images appear across the screen.
Three federal convoys are converging on the mountain.
Mac gives a humorless laugh.
“They’re good.”
Rook steps closer to him. “How do you know what they’re doing?”
“Because I helped write the playbook.”
Silence settles across the trail.
“You helped Graves?” I ask.
“I helped design federal response procedures for domestic terrorist attacks.”
“And now he’s using them against Shadow Division.”
“He’ll declare this a compromised government communications facility. He’ll say Mac was being held here as part of a classified operation. Then he’ll accuse Shadow Division of attacking the station and stealing national-security files.”
“The drives,” I whisper.
Mac nods. “You aren’t carrying evidence anymore. According to Graves, you’re carrying stolen intelligence.”
“And every federal team approaching us believes they’re coming after terrorists,” Caleb says.
Mac looks down the mountain.
“Within thirty minutes, so will the rest of America.”