Page 13 of Crossfire Creek Siege

Owen used it.

From his position behind a steel support, he rose in one smooth motion, sighted in, and fired. The crack of his shot cut clean through the noise. One of the gunmen jerked back, dropped hard, motionless. The others scrambled for cover, shouting orders, disoriented by fire, smoke, and the shrieking feedback still pouring from the bullhorn.

Gage felt the shift, the moment the fight tipped, however briefly, in their favor. He looked back at Rena, their faces both lit by the dull orange glow below.

“Now,” he mouthed.

Whatever came next, they had seconds to move before hell found them again.

Smoke rolled across the hangar in dirty waves, thick with burning rubber and melted plastic. The air burned Gage’s throat as he moved on the beam, eyes scanning for movement through the haze. Below, the two flaming dummies swung wildly, their cables snapping and sparking against the steel rigging.

Then another fire caught. A deep, orange surge that spread low along the floor.

Noah.

He moved from cover on the far side, half-limping, half-running, shoving something with all his strength. Tires—training props from the obstacle course—each one burning hot, rolling end over end toward the gunmen. The flames clung to the rubber, spitting oily smoke that thickened fast.

The attackers shouted, breaking formation. One stumbled back as a tire veered into a stack of crates and exploded into a cloud of black soot. Another took a knee to fire, but Noah was already ducking behind a support beam, smoke curling around him like a shroud.

Gage and Rena kept moving, but his stomach was in knots now. He couldn’t see Lily anywhere. For a moment, fear gripped him cold, but then he caught sight of a flicker of light in the chaos. Near the birthday table.

The candles.

A cluster of tiny lights blinked and flashed, drawing the attackers’ eyes. It took him a second to realize what she’d done. Lily had torn the string of twinkle lights from the decorations and looped them around one of the wheeled training mannequins. The figure jerked forward on its stand, glowing and jerking as if someone were trying to flee through the smoke.

It worked.

The gunmen turned toward the motion, shouting over each other. One opened fire on the decoy, bullets pinging harmlessly off metal and plastic.

That got Rena and him moving even faster. They scrambled along the beam, moving fast but low. Smoke hid their movement, and the strobing light from Lily’s trick gave them cover. A few stray rounds punched into the rafters near their feet, sparks showering down.

But Owen and Noah kept firing, drawing the attackers’ attention, giving them those precious seconds.

By the time they reached the far end of the rafters, Gage’s lungs were raw from smoke, and his shoulder screamed in protest. But they’d made it, still alive, still fighting.

And below, chaos reigned.

Fires, smoke, and a teenager’s quick thinking had turned the hangar into a war zone that the attackers couldn’t control.

Rena and Gage hit the floor hard, boots slipping in a mix of soot and debris. His shoulder throbbed even more, and each movement sent a white-hot spike of pain through the joint. He clenched his teeth, ignored it, forced his legs to move. Rena was beside him, still moving fast, but when the light caught her arm, he saw the dark streak of blood down her sleeve.

“Rena—” Gage managed to say.

“Keep moving,” she hissed, her voice tight.

No time to argue. The hangar was a storm of noise and chaos. Smoke thick enough to choke, gunfire echoing from somewhere near the loading bay. They cut across the floor, keeping low behind scattered crates, making for Owen’s position near a stack of old training mats.

Gage risked a glance up.

And froze.

A mountain of a man stepped from the shadows near the central pillar, his rifle raised. He was easily six-five, bulked up in full combat gear, the kind that turned human shapes into tanks. The muzzle of his weapon tracked toward them.

Gage’s Glock was gone. His shoulder was shot. The math wasn’t in his favor.

His eyes landed on the nearest object. A battered laser-tag gun. Without hesitation, he grabbed it.

“Hey!” Gage barked, stepping out just enough to draw the man’s attention.