The helicopter came in low.
Lower than protocol preferred.
But high enough to remain outside small-arms accuracy — in theory.
The FBI thermal sweep had begun before sunrise, tracing wide arcs over the three clustered properties Brian had circled the night before.
Inside the command vehicle, Brian watched a live feed as infrared images scrolled across the screen.
Cold land.
Cold structures.
Cold tree lines.
Then—
"Heat signature," the aerial tech said.
Brian leaned forward instantly.
"Where?"
"Grid C-14. Small outbuilding. Faint but present."
The image sharpened.
A rectangular structure tucked deep in tree cover.
Single heat source inside.
Stationary.
Brian's pulse spiked.
"Cross-reference ownership."
"LLC tied to Davis shell entity."
Silence filled the command vehicle.
"Movement?" Brian asked.
"Minimal."
"Could be generator heat," the FBI agent warned.
"Or him," Brian said quietly.
Inside the metal structure miles away, Jack was already awake.
He hadn't slept more than an hour.
The world felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Too stretched.
He sat upright slowly in the cot, careful not to wake Sarah immediately.
His mind was racing.
They'd hit two properties already.
They were compressing.
Which meant they would escalate aerial.
He stepped quietly from the bed and moved toward the door.
The air outside felt different.
Thinner.
Then he heard it.
Faint at first.
Rotor blades.
Distant.
But distinct.
His jaw tightened.
"They're sweeping."
Behind him, Sarah stirred.
"What is it?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer.
He stepped back inside and shut the door carefully.
"Get up," he said.
Her stomach dropped.
"Now."
She stood quickly.
"What's happening?"
"They're searching."
Her heart pounded.
"Here?"
"Not yet."
He grabbed a black tarp from a storage bin and began covering the small vent openings along the roofline.
He killed the generator instantly.
The faint hum of power died.
The interior plunged into near darkness.
"Sit," he ordered.
She did.
He crouched beside her.
"If they find us, you do not scream."
Her breath caught.
"You do not move."
He stared directly into her eyes.
"You stay with me."
The rotor sound grew louder.
Closer.
At the command vehicle, the thermal signature flickered.
"Lost it," tech muttered.
"Zoom."
"Still there but diminishing."
Brian frowned.
"Generator cut?"
"Possible."
"Or someone killed the heat source intentionally," the FBI agent added.
Brian's pulse quickened.
"He hears us."
He grabbed the radio.
"Ground units prepare to move on C-14."
The helicopter passed directly over Jack's property.
He held perfectly still.
Sarah sat beside him, close enough that her shoulder touched his.
He hadn't restrained her.
Not physically.
But proximity had become its own tether.
The blades thundered overhead.
The structure vibrated faintly.
Sarah's heart pounded so loud she was certain it was audible.
Jack leaned close to her ear.
"Stay calm."
She didn't pull away.
She couldn't afford to.
The sound passed.
Faded slightly.
But didn't disappear.
Ground units advanced toward Property C-14.
Weapons drawn.
Perimeter tightening.
"Movement inside?" one officer whispered.
"Negative visual."
They reached the door.
One officer signaled.
Three.
Two.
One.
Breach.
The door exploded inward.
Shouts.
"Federal agents! Show your hands!"
Inside—
Empty.
Sleeping bag.
Warm generator casing.
Recently used food containers.
But no Jack.
Brian arrived minutes later.
"He was here," Tactical confirmed.
"How long ago?"
"Less than an hour."
Brian's jaw tightened.
"He heard us."
Outside, one officer moved toward a secondary shed on the property.
"Clear that too," tactical ordered.
The officer approached carefully.
Door slightly ajar.
He pushed it open.
And froze.
"Contact!"
A shot rang out from inside the shed.
The officer dropped, clutching his shoulder.
Gunfire erupted instantly.
"Shooter inside!"
Brian dove behind a vehicle as rounds struck dirt nearby.
"Davis?" someone shouted.
"Negative! Unknown male!"
The shooter bolted from the back of the shed — a middle-aged man in dirty overalls, firing wildly.
"Drop the weapon!" Tactical screamed.
The man fired again.
Officers returned fire.
The man fell hard into the dirt.
Silence followed.
The injured officer groaned nearby.
"Clear!" someone shouted.
Brian stood slowly.
"Who is he?" he demanded.
"Property caretaker," one agent said grimly after checking ID. "Didn't know about federal warrant."
Brian closed his eyes briefly.
Wrong target.
Wrong escalation.
The media would devour this.
Inside the metal structure miles away, Jack exhaled slowly as the helicopter noise faded completely.
"They hit one," he murmured.
"How do you know?" Sarah asked.
"Because they always move too fast."
He studied her face.
"You see that?"
"What?"
"They endanger innocent people."
She said nothing.
"They escalate. I contain."
He stepped closer to her.
"You're safer with me."
Her instinct screamed to reject that.
But she didn't.
Not this time.
Instead, she lowered her eyes slightly.
He noticed.
His breathing changed.
"You understand," he said softly.
She didn't nod.
But she didn't argue.
That was enough for him.
He stepped closer and brushed his hand lightly along her arm again.
Not forceful.
Not violent.
But claiming.
She didn't flinch.
Inside, her mind screamed.
But she held still.
Because compliance was not surrendered.
It was survival.
Back at C-14, the injured officer was loaded into an ambulance.
Media helicopters circled above the treeline.
Brian stared at the structure they had just cleared.
"He's close," he said.
"Yes," the FBI agent replied.
"And now he knows we're using air."
"Yes."
"Which means he'll reduce heat signatures."
"Or go underground."
Brian looked back toward the map in his mind.
Clustered zone.
Fifteen-mile radius.
He's inside it.
And he's adapting.
Inside the metal structure, Jack packed quickly now.
"Where are we going?" Sarah asked quietly.
"Short shift," he replied.
"Another property?"
"Yes."
He paused.
Then looked at her carefully.
"You'll stay with me."
"I don't have a choice."
He studied her face for resistance.
Found none.
He stepped closer.
"You're learning."
Her pulse pounded.
She was.
But not the way he believed.
As he locked the structure behind them and led her toward the vehicle hidden beyond the tree line, he didn't realize one critical thing.
Every relocation shortened the window.
Every compression tightened the net.
And every mistake—
Brought them closer to rupture.