Chapter 66
AVA - POINT AND SHOOT
You know what they say about the quiet before the storm.
That uneasy silence that crawls beneath your skin.
The feeling you can’t name but know in your bones isn’t going to end well.
The first warning was almost polite.
Just a soft ping, so faint you could mistake it for a low battery, or one of those cheery reminders to drink water, stretch your legs, take a deep breath.
But then came the second.
Then the third.
And suddenly, Gray’s laptop lit up like an air traffic controller’s screen on a bad day.
He froze mid-step, spine rigid, breath caught, eyes locked on the cascading flood of alerts like he was watching a nightmare unfold in real time.
“Shit… that’s not good.”
The words dropped heavy between us.
“What is it?” My voice came out smaller than I meant it to, my body already rising from the couch, heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
He didn’t answer right away. Just stared, muscles locked, as if hoping that if he didn’t move, the storm might pass us by.
It didn’t.
His fingers flew across the keys. “Perimeter trip sensors. West ridge, then north. Fast-moving, heavy tread. Multiple motion triggers.”
My blood went cold, the kind of cold that seeps into bone. “Deer?”
“No.” His voice was clipped, low, and certain. “Too fast. Too coordinated.”
His jaw tightened, something dangerous flashing in his eyes.
“And…” He inhaled sharply, exhaled harder. “Fuck. I think they’re flanking.”
He was already moving.
Across the room in two strides, yanking throw pillows off the storage ottoman, tossing them aside without looking, revealing the bag he’d brought, the one he’d joked could’ve been yoga mats.
No one was laughing now.
Gray slung the bag open with surgical precision and unzipped it. Inside was a quiet kind of terror: organized compartments holding an arsenal. Pistols, ammo, radio comms, folded knives, flashbangs. Every piece polished, every slot packed with brutal intention.
I blinked at it, at him, at this silent confession; he’d always known this might happen.
“Comms are down,” he muttered, pulling a radio free and slapping in a battery with steady hands. “I can’t reach Harlan. Jack. Kane. No one.”
My throat went dry. “Not even satellite?”
“Not unless Kane reroutes through private intel channels,” he said without looking up, snapping the slide back on a sidearm like he’d done it a thousand times. “And that takes time. Time, he doesn’t know we don’t have. Whoever this is…”
He glanced at me, eyes dark, steady. “They planned this.”
He didn’t say Erin’s name.
He didn’t have to.
I swallowed hard, forcing words past the knot in my chest. “So, what do we do?”
He handed me a smaller radio, lighter than his but heavier than I wanted it to be. “Backup comm. When Kane reboots the network, ping one signal, one pulse. Just enough to mark the location.”
He moved fast, sweeping through the cabin with the kind of precision you only get when you’ve planned for this exact moment and prayed it would never come. Curtains drawn. Doors locked. Windows checked and checked again.
Then, like a ritual, he knelt by the weapons bag and pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle.
A handgun.
He checked the chamber, loaded it, and handed it to me.
“Aim for center mass. Don’t wait. If someone gets through me, you do not hesitate.”
My fingers trembled as I took it, metal cold and heavy against my palm.
I hated the way it fit, as if it belonged.
Gray stood and scanned the space again, his mind clearly running two steps ahead of mine. And then, like flipping a switch, he started cleaning up.
The dishes.
The files.
The notes and flash drives.
Everything that screamed we’d been here.
“Finish uploading everything,” he said, nodding at my laptop without looking.
“Once backup’s complete, send it to every secure outlet you’ve got.
If something happens to me, don’t wait, hit send.
IA, FBI, press, legal boards, all of it.
That’ll slow down Erin’s PR sweep and force people to pay attention. ”
I wanted to tell him not to talk like that, as if there was an “if something happens to me” sitting between us, like an inevitability.
But my voice wouldn’t come.
He opened a storage cabinet near the fireplace and slid his weapon bag inside, locking it with a code I didn’t recognize. Gone. Invisible. Like we’d never been here.
“This is your fallback,” he said, pulling a USB drive from around his neck and pressing it into my hand. “Final copy. Worst-case scenario.”
I clutched it so tight it bit into my palm.
Gray paused at the door, his shoulders rigid, a quiet storm brewing under his skin. He was scared, but ready.
“I’ll try to clear as many as I can before they get close,” he said, voice level. “Keep them outside. Keep them away from you. If all else fails, there’s a hatch in the main room that drops to a crawl space; it’ll get you out into the open.”
The world had narrowed to the sound of my heartbeat.
Fast. Too fast.
He drew a steadying breath, then looked back over his shoulder, his gaze pinning me in place.
“You ever shot a gun before?”
I forced something that almost passed for a smile, though my throat was desert dry. “Isn’t it just… point and shoot?”
His lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Point, breathe, then shoot. Center mass. Don’t wait for a warning.”
He turned to go.
I didn’t stop him.
Couldn’t.
Because I knew, with a clarity that hurt, that if it came down to it, he’d lay down his life to protect mine.
And I wasn’t ready to grieve anyone else.
Not tonight.
Not before the world knew the truth.
Our story wasn’t ending like this.