Page 82 of Beyond Redemption

He gave a short nod, followed by a quick, clipped wink. Her mouth pressed thin, almost a smile, then she pulled free and moved out.

After watching his daughter clear the room, he squared his shoulders. “Maddox. I want coverage on every quadrant. Spenser is at the west gate, Kansas is on South Tower, Jones east quad, Naomi north. Pick your poison, you’ll fall under them. Arm up with something scarier than your sidearms on your way out.”

Thomas turned toward us. “Travis, you take the west quad with Spenser. Trent, you’re with him. Taylor, Tyler, east with Jones. Abby, Liis, rendezvous with Kansas at South Tower, it’s closest to the bunker. I’ve got north. And listen, no hero shit. We’re support only. Our families are back in the bunker waiting for us to come home. Remember that.”

“Copy,” Travis said, already heading for the door.

We pushed outside, and the world hit all at once. The air carried heat and grit, the distant crack of outgoing fire threading through the dark. Another blast followed from the same direction, brighter this time, throwing embers and debris into the air.

Travis turned to Abby. “This is the real deal, Pidge. You should head back to the bunker.”

“I’ll go if they breach the fences,” she said, staring up at him. “I promise.”

His jaws flexed as he thought and then nodded once, clearly against his every instinct.

Weapons were already being handed off just beyond the entrance of Command. A line of militia moved with purpose, passing rifles, mags, and vests without pause. I took what was shoved into my hands, checked the weight, the chamber, the extra mags secured at my side.

Abby shook her head. “I don’t know how to handle one of those things.”

“You’ve gotta have something,” Travis said. “You can’t be out here empty handed.”

I pulled my sidearm from its holster. “This?”

Abby nodded, taking it from me and slipping it behind her into her waistband.

“Holy shit,” Trenton said, scanning the glowing sky as another echo rolled through the compound. “This is for real.”

“Move!” Thomas’s voice carried over it. “Stay low!”

We broke in different directions, heads down, tracking the sky between steps, watching for anything incoming.

“Not you.” Thomas’s hand caught my collar, pulling me back just as I started to follow Abby south. His mouth found mine, quick and hard, all urgency and no hesitation. When he pulled back, his forehead pressed to mine. “Stay alive.”

“You too,” I said. “See you soon.”

He nodded once, already stepping away, then turned and ran.

I pulled Abby with me, scanning as we moved south, checking every shape against the cut and color of militia fatigues. Sound wasn’t something I could track anymore. It stacked and folded in on itself, too much of it to separate cleanly. Automatic fire snapped in disciplined bursts near the gate, heavier weapons answering in slower, concussive intervals that carried through the ground. Rounds struck metal and concrete with a hard, ringing deflection, close enough to place without looking.

Voices cut through it all in fragments—orders, names, directions. Nothing held long, carried off almost as soon as it was spoken.

Soldiers ran past in both directions, some toward the perimeter, some dragging wounded back toward cover. A man stumbled five feet in front of me, dropped hard, and was pulled by his vest by someone who didn’t stop moving long enough to check whether he was dead or alive. Dust kicked up under boots, thick enough that the grit and metal caught in my throat. I brought my breathing under control, forcing my pulse to follow until the noise resolved into something I could sort.

A few minutes later, I spotted the southern watchtower. It was just within sprinting distance of the bunker, slightly offset from the main line, elevated with clear sightlines over the approaches. Kansas stood at the top, pointing with her free hand as she issued orders, night vision binos in the other, an impressive rifle slung over her shoulder. I understood then. Thomas hadn’tsent us toward the fight. He’d placed us where we could see it coming and still fall back if we had to. The rounds coming from the north, where Thomas was sprinting toward, weren’t random. The point of impact had pattern and intent, controlled bursts advancing in waves instead of the erratic spray of untrained shooters I’d hoped for. The Carlisis had brought people who knew what they were doing.

I angled toward the tower, adjusting my path to stay behind the line of vehicles parked along the inner yard. A stray round struck a truck just ahead of us, the windshield cracking in a fast, spreading web before collapsing inward. The impact cracked through the yard, sharp and concussive, forcing a half-step check in my stride before I pushed through it. I reached for Abby, grabbing her just as she stumbled.

“You good?” I asked, loud enough to be heard over the noise.

She wiped her hair from her face and nodded. “Yeah,” she said with labored breath. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go.”

I dropped lower and moved faster, pulling Abby along and keeping her close. We reached the base of the tower and I grabbed the railing, hauling myself up the first set of steps two at a time. The metal vibrated under my boots with each impact below, the structure taking the force and translating it upward through my hands.

Halfway up, a round clipped the outer frame with a sharp, hollow clang.

“Shit!” Abby cried out, ducking and covering her head with her arms.

I pressed in against the inner support and pulled Abby in with me, guiding her into the angle of the structure where it offered the most cover, keeping her tight to the beam as I adjusted our position.