Page 51 of Crossfire Creek Siege

They’d already survived hell together.

Now they were going back into the fire.

Noah’s eyes scanned the room once more. “Gear up,” he said. “We move in thirty.”

The command snapped everyone into motion. Sounds clinked as guys checked vests, boots were tightened, radios tested. Gage felt that old familiar rhythm settle into him, the ritual that steadied the jitter of readiness. Magazine checks, quick nods, a final thumb across a sight.

Sheriff Chase stood, slipping on a vest. She met Noah’s gaze, then addressed the room. “I’ve got warrants signed,” she said. “Judge cleared them.” Her voice was calm but there was no mistaking the edge underneath. “And I had added on the warrants that I’d be using consultants from Crossfire Ops since all of you are better equipped to deal with a paramilitary setup like this.”

“So, we have a legal right to be on both sites,” Noah added, picking up the explanation.

“A legal right to detain anyone there as well and seize any and all weapons,” the sheriff spelled out. She paused a heartbeat. “I trust the judge, but I won’t pretend there aren’t people who’d like to know where we’re headed.”

Isla looked up from a laptop. “If anything leaks, we’ll see activity on comms and drone feeds.”

Sheriff Chase nodded. “That’s why we move like it’s an ambush from the word go. Assume they’ve got eyes, assume they’ve got gear. We go careful, we go lethal if we have to.”

“We prepare for the worst and hope for the best,” Noah emphasized. “No hero moves. No lone wolves. Stick to the plan, keep comms clean, and watch your sectors.”

Gage clipped his radio on, fingers steady despite the tightness in his chest. He could feel Rena beside him, another practiced click as she secured her kit. For a second their hands brushed. No words. Just the same understanding they’d carried through firefights and accidents. Trust the person next to you with your life.

Outside the briefing room, the compound hummed, vehicles warming, rotors cycling, techs calling final checks. Inside, they finished last-minute preparations, tucking away the small comforts of civilian life and loading the hard comforts of war.

If this was a trap, they’d meet it head-on. If it wasn’t, they’d burn out every shadow that still threatened Crossfire Ops. One way or another, tonight they would get answers.

Chapter Fifteen

Rena adjusted the strap of her vest as she followed the others out into the night. The air was hot, humid, and humming with quiet tension.

Boots scuffed against the concrete as Team One—Rena, Gage, Cal, Garrett, Isla, and Sheriff Chase—made their way toward the Crossfire Ops van parked near the hangar. The vehicle was blacked out, armored, and outfitted with a portable command station for Isla, who was already muttering under her breath about satellite links and signal integrity as she climbed in.

Noah peeled away toward the helicopter pad, his silhouette cutting across the floodlights. The rotor blades began to spin, slicing through the stillness, and Rena felt that familiar pulse of adrenaline start to build, the pre-mission charge that always hit right before they stepped into uncertainty.

Gage handed her a comm earpiece, their fingers brushing. “Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she said, even if her gut twisted in quiet contradiction.

Outside, the world was painted in silver and shadow. The full moon hung high above them, bright enough to light every ridge and bend of the surrounding hills. Normally, she’d have appreciated a sky that clear, but not tonight. Tonight, it meant exposure.

Rena could feel the tension humming in the van like a live wire. No one spoke. The air was thick with nerves, quiet focus, and that shared current of anticipation that came before every operation. No op was ever routine, she’d learned that the hard way, but this one carried a different weight.

They might finally know who’d launched the attacks on them. Who’d tried to slaughter kids at a birthday party.

Who’d turned Crossfire Ops from a fortress to a target.

Garrett double-checked his primary handgun, the metallic click of the chamber breaking the silence. Cal watched the perimeter through the windshield, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight. Isla’s fingers flew over her portable keyboard, setting up her field link, muttering bits of code and tech jargon under her breath like a mantra. Sheriff Chase, calm as a seasoned soldier, her eyes sharp but steady.

Across from them, Team Two was loading up. Harlan, Colt, Eli, Delaney, Jace, and Deputy Sanchez. They moved with quiet precision, their gear catching the moonlight as they fell into place.

This was it.

The hunt wasn’t over yet, but tonight, it might finally turn in their favor.

Cal took the driver’s seat, Sheriff Chase sliding in beside him up front. The rest of them filed into the back, settling along the benches that lined the van’s sides.

Rena ended up shoulder to shoulder with Gage. The contact wasn’t intentional, but she didn’t move away either. There was something grounding about his solid presence. Steady, controlled, the kind of calm you could anchor to when everything else was unknown.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Isla murmured as Cal started the drive. She was already typing, multiple windows blooming to life across the van’s built-in monitors.