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“I know.”

“If the truck continues toward you⁠—”

“The pilot moves us.”

“If the shooting comes near you⁠—”

“We leave.”

“Sage?”

“I stay with Hayley and Taylor.”

I study her face.

She means it.

“Good.”

She catches my sleeve before I turn away.

“Sean.”

“What?”

“Bring the girls back.”

“We will.”

The helicopter drops quickly.

The landing is hard enough to shake the equipment beneath our seats.

Kane opens the side door before the skids settle.

We move.

Taylor remains with Sage and Hayley.

The helicopter rises again and circles south.

Six Iron Ridge Protectors spread across the empty field.

Kane and Holt take the western side of the road.

Trent and Arthur cross east.

Will stays with me near the center.

The approaching truck is less than two miles away.

We have four minutes.

“Taylor,” I say.

His voice sounds through my receiver.

“Overhead position established. Truck is continuing north. Pickup remains fifty yards behind.”