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I face forward.

He is right.

I hate him for it.

The front gate comes into view.

One side hangs open.

The other is bent inward.

Arthur drives through.

Smoke rolls across the property.

Flames climb the front porch and reach toward the roof.

Kane’s truck is parked behind the equipment building.

A body lies near the fence.

The man is alive.

Barely.

His hands are secured behind his back.

“Kane took the first one,” Taylor says.

A gunshot sounds near the equipment building.

Arthur stops behind a stone retaining wall.

We exit together.

Heat presses against my face.

“Kane!” I shout.

No answer.

Another shot.

Closer.

Arthur moves left.

Taylor takes the right.

I go through the middle.

We don’t need instructions.

Eighteen years of training and combat take over.

Arthur reaches the corner first and signals.

One-armed man.