Chapter 6: The Siege at the Cabin
The flickering moonlight through the dirty cabin window offered little comfort as Damon paced the creaking floorboards, checking the magazine of his tactical pistol with practiced, mechanical efficiency.
"We can't stay here long," Damon said quietly, keeping his voice down so as not to wake Ava, who was sleeping soundly on the cot. "This cabin is too isolated. If Vesper tracks our trail—and with thermal drones, she will—we'll be sitting ducks."
"How long do we have?" Sienna asked, her hands clasped tightly in her lap as she sat at the wooden table.
"Hours, maybe less," Damon replied, walking over to the window and peering cautiously through a crack in the rotting shutters. "She knows every tracking protocol in the book. But I left a burner comms unit buried near the old stone well three miles down the trail. If I can dig it out, I can contact an old contact inside naval intelligence—someone who owes me a massive favor. We can get federal protection."
"You're going out there?" Sienna asked, her heart dropping. "Damon, no. If she's out there waiting—"
"I have to," he interrupted gently, turning to look at her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "I survived seven years in hell just for this exact moment, Sienna. I am not going to let them take my family away a second time."
Before Sienna could answer, a sharp, metallic screech echoed from outside the cabin.
It wasn't the sound of a footstep. It was the high-pitched whine of a miniature electric motor.
Damon froze. His eyes widened. "Drone."
A split second later, a blinding flash of white light illuminated the cabin interior through the windows, followed instantly by a deafening concussion that blew the heavy oak front door off its hinges in a shower of splintered wood and flying dust.
"Get down!" Damon roared, tackling Sienna to the floor as a burst of automatic gunfire chewed through the wooden walls, shredding the old wallpaper and shattering the glass oil lamp on the counter.
The siege had begun.
Thick, acrid smoke began to billow through the doorway as a breaching charge detonated against the side porch. Through the haze, heavy combat boots stepped heavily onto the threshold.
Vesper’s cold, melodic voice echoed through the chaotic din of the ruined cabin.
May you like
"Come out, Damon," she called out mockingly, the sound of her approaching footsteps sending ice through Sienna’s veins. "You can't outrun the inevitable. Let's finish what we started on the beach."
Damon rolled across the floor, shielding Sienna with his own body as he raised his pistol toward the smoking doorway, his finger resting steadily on the trigger.
