The lake was too quiet.
That was the first thing Brian noticed as the teams advanced.
Not silent — there was always wind, always water shifting along rock — but controlled. Suspended. Like the night itself was holding back.
The ridge team had moved nearly eighty yards from their initial position. Slow. Methodical. Each step placed, each breath measured. No broken branches. No metallic clicks.
Below, two rafts pressed against shoreline brush, officers half-submerged in shadow.
Brian crouched behind a fallen cedar near the top of the ridge, binoculars lifted.
The cabin glowed faintly under night vision.
Still intact.
Still lit inside by a lantern.
Still occupied.
"Drone altitude?" Brian whispered.
"Forty feet above canopy," tech replied through the earpiece. "Thermal sweep every ninety seconds."
"He's overlapping angles," Tactical added quietly. "He's not guessing."
Brian adjusted his lens.
The drone dipped slightly, hovering.
"Battery swap window?" Brian asked.
"Unknown. Depends on model."
Inside the cabin, Jack sat cross-legged on the floor with the tablet in his hands.
He had turned off unnecessary lights. The lantern was shielded now, the glow minimized.
Two drones were active — one mid-air, one charging beside him.
He had adjusted flight patterns.
Less predictable.
Shorter loops.
Higher bursts.
He had also placed two small motion sensors near the back tree line earlier that afternoon — devices small enough to blend into bark and brush.
He wasn't waiting.
He was anticipating.
"You see how they move?" he said quietly, almost conversationally.
Neither Sarah nor Molly responded.
"You don't," he corrected himself softly. "But I do."
He zoomed in on the ridge through thermal feed.
There.
A faint distortion.
Heat against colder ground.
Gone again.
He smiled slightly.
"They're careful," he murmured.
Sarah watched him closely.
He wasn't angry now.
He was focused.
That frightened her more.
Molly shifted on the floor, wrists sore, jaw aching where he'd struck her.
"How long can you keep this up?" she asked.
Jack didn't look at her.
"As long as necessary."
"You think you're going to walk away from this?"
He finally turned his head.
"I don't need to walk far."
That sentence lodged in Sarah's mind.
Not far.
She scanned the cabin walls quickly.
Floorboards.
Rear wall.
The hatch she'd seen him open.
Exit.
Brian lowered his binoculars.
"He's calm," he muttered.
"Too calm?" the Chief asked beside him.
"Yes."
He studied the structure again.
Cabin raised slightly on an uneven foundation.
Back side angled toward the slope.
Tree density is thicker on the southern edge.
"Thermal anomaly near rear quadrant," tech whispered suddenly.
Brian snapped focus back up.
"Repeat."
"Rear left corner. Slight fluctuation."
Jack's drone shifted again, compensating.
The anomaly disappeared.
False read?
Or concealment?
"He's scanning that area more heavily," tactical observed.
"Why?" Brian asked quietly.
Because something's there.
Brian's eyes sharpened.
"He has an exit."
The Chief nodded once.
"Where?"
"Under or behind."
The Ridge team paused, awaiting instruction.
Brian thought fast.
If they pushed the ridge directly, Jack would retreat.
If they advanced by water, he'd see it.
They needed to stretch his attention.
"Deploy decoy heat," Brian whispered.
"From where?"
"Western ridge. Small unit. Controlled movement."
Risky.
But calculated.
Within two minutes, a small thermal unit activated roughly one hundred yards west of the primary ridge team.
It flickered like body heat moving through brush.
Inside the cabin, Jack's tablet chimed.
Motion spike.
He frowned.
Zoomed west.
There it was.
Heat signature.
Advancing.
He stood immediately.
Sarah felt the shift in the room.
"See?" he murmured. "Predictable."
He grabbed the rifle.
Checked the back window.
The decoy heat moved again.
Deliberate.
Slow.
He stepped toward the rear hatch.
Opened it.
Dark crawlspace revealed beneath the floor.
Molly's breath caught.
He is leaving.
But he didn't go down.
Not yet.
He watched.
Waited.
Outside, Brian held his breath.
"Did he take it?" tactical whispered.
"Hard to tell."
The drone repositioned toward the west ridge.
The real ridge team seized the moment.
Three more yards forward.
Then two.
Then one.
"Distance to structure?" Brian asked.
"Seventy yards."
Too far.
Too exposed.
Wind shifted across the lake.
Carried faint smell of fuel.
Brian's instincts prickled.
"Any thermal inside?" he asked.
"Two consistent signatures."
Alive.
For now.
Inside, Jack stepped back from the hatch.
The west movement had paused.
Stalled.
He narrowed his eyes.
Decoy.
He knew it.
He lifted the rifle and fired once through the back window toward the west ridge.
The crack split the night.
Echoed across the water.
The Ridge team froze.
Decoy unit went dark.
Smoke drifted from broken glass.
Inside the cabin, the sound rattled Molly's chest.
Sarah's pulse spiked.
Jack lowered the rifle slightly.
"They're testing me," he said quietly.
Outside, Brian didn't flinch.
"First shot," tactical whispered.
"Hold," Brian ordered.
No return fire.
Not yet.
The lake felt smaller now.
Tighter.
The drone hovered lower again, scanning.
"Battery at twenty percent," tech noted.
"Watch the swap."
Seconds ticked by.
Inside, Jack monitored both drone feed and thermal.
His breathing had changed again.
Not frantic.
Not calm.
Adrenaline steady.
"Do you hear that?" he asked the girls softly.
They didn't respond.
"That's them losing patience."
Outside, Brian stared at the cabin.
He felt it too.
The tension had shifted from silent to active.
Contact had begun.
But it wasn't the assault yet.
Not yet.
The drone dipped.
The battery warning flashed.
Jack muttered under his breath and guided it back toward the roofline for recharge.
That window.
That window was small.
"Move," Brian whispered.
The ridge team advanced five yards instantly.
Silent.
Fluid.
Distance now fifty-five yards.
Still too far.
But closer.
And closer was dangerous.
Inside, Jack swapped the drone battery with practiced efficiency.
But something in his hands trembled slightly now.
He didn't miss it.
He noticed.
And that annoyed him.
"You see?" he muttered. "They're getting bold."
Sarah felt it.
This wasn't controlled containment anymore.
This was pressure.
And pressure made cracks.
Outside, Brian adjusted position again.
"Night window closing," tactical warned. "Cloud cover thinning."
Moonlight would expose them soon.
Time was narrowing.
Brian made the call.
"Prepare secondary water movement."
The rafts began shifting silently along the shoreline shadow.
Inside, Jack's second drone lifted again.
And this time—
It angled lower toward the waterline.
Brian saw it.
"Freeze," he whispered.
But the drone kept descending.
Scanning.
Closer.
Closer.
The rescue had begun.
And in the next few minutes—
It would either advance—
Or explode.