Unlike their cell phones, it still had a signal. He pressed a speed dial. “Cross.” A pause. “This is Alpha-Seven.” “We’ve lost commercial communications.” Another pause. “Confirmed.” His expression hardened. “Deploy the emergency team.” He listened for several seconds before ending the call. “They’re mobilizing.” “How long?” Lisa asked. “Twenty to twenty-five minutes.” Shane shook his head. “We don’t have twenty-five minutes.” Cross looked at him. “You think they’ll move before then?” “I know they will.” “How?” “Because if I were running this operation…”
He pointed toward the front window. “…I wouldn’t waste time watching.” “I’d already have people in position.” Detective Kent quietly drew his service pistol. Shepard did the same. The atmosphere inside the house changed instantly. No longer a conversation. Now it was preparation. Shane looked at Marcy. “Sweetheart.” She met his eyes. “I need you to do exactly what I say.” She nodded immediately. “No questions.” “No questions.” He turned to Lisa. “The emergency bags?” “Already packed.” “Good.” Cross watched the exchange. “You planned for something like this?” Lisa gave a sad smile. “When you spend twenty-five years married to a Marine…” “…you eventually learn to pack before asking why.” Shane opened another compartment inside the old footlocker. Inside were laminated floor plans of the house. Cross blinked. “You mapped your own home?” “Every entrance.” “Every blind corner.” “Every escape route.” Kent looked impressed.
“You’ve thought about this before.” “I’ve thought about protecting my family every day since Marcy was born.” He spread the floor plans across the kitchen table. “This hallway is too narrow.” He pointed. “If someone enters through the front door…” “…they’ll naturally funnel toward the living room.” Another point. “This window provides the best escape.” Another. “The garage has reinforced walls.” Cross interrupted. “Mr. Jones…” “We’re not planning a gunfight.” “I’m planning survival.” Silence. No one argued. Because everyone knew the difference. Then… A faint buzzing sound echoed outside. Marcy looked toward the window. “What was that?” Shane froze. Cross immediately recognized it. “A drone.” They all looked upward. The small aircraft hovered nearly fifty feet above the backyard. Barely visible against the afternoon sky. Kent muttered, “They’re watching.” “No.” Shane corrected. “They’re measuring.” Cross understood immediately.
“Distances.”
“Entry points.”
“Heat signatures.”
“Exactly.”
Lisa’s face tightened.
“They’re planning an attack.”
Nobody answered.
Nobody needed to.
Cross picked up the satellite phone again.
“We have aerial surveillance over the residence.”
He paused.
“Negative.”
“It’s not ours.”
Another pause.
“What?”
His expression changed.
“Witness just reported two additional SUVs entering the neighborhood.”
Shane quietly folded the floor plans.
“They’re here.”
A loud engine roared outside.
Then another.
Brakes squealed.
Car doors slammed.
Kent carefully lifted the edge of the curtain.
“Three vehicles.”
“Six…”
“No…”
He counted again.
“Eight men.”
Cross immediately moved beside him.
“They’re spreading out.”
“North.”
“South.”
“Rear alley.”
Shane calmly picked up Marcy’s hand.
“Listen to me.”
She looked terrified.
“I caused this.”
“No.”
“You didn’t.”
“I stayed with Dustin.”
“He chose violence.”
“I should’ve—”
He gently interrupted.
“You are not responsible for another person’s evil.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes.
“I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me.”
He smiled softly.
“You know what Marines believe?”
She shook her head.
“We don’t protect people because they’ve earned it.”
“We protect them because it’s our duty.”
He squeezed her shoulder.
“You’ve always been worth protecting.”
Before she could answer—
CRASH!
Glass exploded somewhere in the back of the house.
Lisa gasped.
“They’re inside!”
Cross immediately motioned toward the hallway.
“Move!”
Everyone sprang into action.
Kent covered the rear hallway.
Shepard moved toward the kitchen entrance.
Cross drew his sidearm.
Shane remained astonishingly calm.
He listened.
Not to the shouting.
Not to the breaking glass.
To the footsteps.
Years of combat had taught him something civilians rarely understood.
Every person moved differently.
Heavy.
Light.
Confident.
Afraid.
He closed his eyes for one second.
Counting.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six…
“No.”
He opened his eyes.
“Nine.”
Cross frowned.
“What?”
“There are nine.”
“Kent counted eight.”
“He missed one.”
Shane pointed toward the garage.
“The quiet one.”
Cross’s eyes widened.
The hidden entry.
Before anyone could react—
A loud metallic bang echoed from the garage door.
Someone was forcing it open.
Shane looked at Cross.
“They’re sending the smartest one first.”
The steel door groaned.
Another impact.
Then another.
The locking mechanism finally snapped.
Slowly…
The interior garage door began to open.
A shadow appeared.
Not rushing.
Not shouting.
Walking.
Patiently.
Confidently.
The man stepped into the light wearing a black suit instead of gang colors.
Gray hair.
Perfect posture.
No visible weapon.
Cross’s face went pale.
“Oh, no…”
Kent whispered,
“You know him?”
Cross nodded once.
His voice barely escaped his throat.
“That’s not one of Royce Clark’s soldiers.”
“Then who is he?”
Cross stared at the man in disbelief.
“That’s Royce Clark.”
The crime boss smiled warmly as though arriving for dinner with old friends.
His eyes settled on Shane.
“So…”
Royce said calmly.
“The Marine finally came home.”
Every officer in the room raised a weapon.
Royce didn’t even blink.
Instead…
He slowly lifted both empty hands.
Then said something that made even Shane’s heartbeat pause.
“I’m not here to kill your family.”
He smiled.
“I’m here because someone has been lying to both of us.”
