Page 18 of Crossfire Creek Siege

The night outside the hangar was chaos and shadow. The moment Rena heard the deep, rising whine of rotors, her stomach dropped.

They converged on the massive hangar doors, boots pounding over the concrete, breath coming hard and fast. The air outside hit Rena like a slap. Hot, thick, and heavy with the smell of fuel and smoke. Somewhere out there, past the broken floodlights, the bastards were trying to leave.

“Owen, watch our six,” Ruby snapped as they reached the threshold.

He peeled off instantly, covering their rear. Smart. If any of the remaining thugs circled back, they’d have backup waiting for them.

Rena pressed herself against the doorframe, weapon up. The night was pitch black, no floodlights, no power from the compound, just the faint strobe from a pair of helicopter beacons cutting through the dark. Shapes moved fast near the choppers. Men loading gear, shouting orders.

Ruby brought her carbine rifle up, sighted through the smoke, and fired. Short, controlled bursts. The man near the lead chopper stumbled, dropped, then another went down, but the machine itself didn’t flinch.

Reinforced hull. Armor-plated.

The second chopper roared louder, its rotors kicking up dust and ash in violent spirals. Rena shielded her face, squinting through the blast of grit. The vibration rattled through her bones as it began to lift, nose tilting skyward.

Then came the sound, wrong and deep, like a beast clearing its throat. A mechanical growl that vibrated the air.

And a split second later, light erupted above them.

The chopper jerked midair, an explosion blooming out from its undercarriage, a fireball that swallowed it whole. The blast rocked the ground, heat searing Rena’s cheeks. Flaming debris rained down like shrapnel, scattering across the compound.

Rena stumbled, looked up through the glare and smoke. And froze. On the roof of headquarters, silhouetted against the orange firelight, stood Noah. He was braced behind an artillery launcher, smoke curling from the barrel.

Her pulse kicked once, hard.

“Well,” Gage muttered beside her, breathless and half in awe. “Guess the party’s not over yet.”

The first chopper hit the ground in a roaring fireball. The shockwave slammed into Rena like a physical blow, heat searing her skin, the smell of burning fuel and scorched metal flooding the air. She ducked, arm up to shield her face as a chunk of twisted debris clattered across the concrete, still burning.

The hangar rattled with the echo of the explosion. Flames clawed into the sky, lighting the compound in violent orange.

But the second chopper was already moving.

“Damn it,” Ruby hissed, snapping her rifle up again.

She fired, but the bullets sparked harmlessly off the armored fuselage. The rotors screamed louder, tearing through the smoke and ash like a buzz saw.

Up on the roof, Noah adjusted his stance, braced the launcher against his shoulder, and fired again. The missile streaked into the night. A perfect shot. For one long, suspended moment, Rena thought he had it.

Then the pilot jerked the chopper hard sideways, skimming so low the rotors kicked up a cyclone of dust. The round missed by feet, detonating harmlessly in the open field beyond the compound. The shock lit the sky, but the bird kept climbing, engines howling in retreat.

“Son of a bitch!” Owen yelled, firing after it, his rounds vanishing into the dark.

The chopper banked east, gaining altitude fast, until the sound faded into the distance, leaving only the burning wreckage of its twin and the crackle of fire.

Rena watched the shadows disappear into the night, the flames throwing long, jagged shapes across the ground. The adrenaline still pounded in her veins, but the truth hit hard and quiet.

It wasn’t over. Not even close.

Chapter Six

Gage glanced around, forcing his nerves to settle. Or rather, trying to do that. Hard to manage settled nerves after coming so damn close to dying.

But there was no death here at the moment, thank God.

They’d gotten damn lucky with only having minor injuries. Not just for the adults but especially for the kids, too. It could have been a hell of a lot worse. Because this should have never happened. Not to those kids. Not here in this facility.

In contrast to the hell that’d gone on in the hangar just two hours earlier, the Crossfire Ops briefing room was the picture of control. Cool, ordered, and humming with quiet efficiency.