Chapter 14 - The Shadow of Retaliation
Three days later, the local peace was abruptly shattered.
It was late evening, and the cicadas were buzzing loudly in the tall grass surrounding our farmhouse. My parents were asleep upstairs, resting comfortably after a long day of tending to the newly planted garden. I was sitting at the kitchen table, reviewing the remaining federal asset logs, when I heard the distinct crunch of tires on our gravel driveway.
No headlights. Just a heavy, unlit vehicle idling near the tree line.
Instantly, my military instincts spiked. I slipped my combat knife from its sheath, set my tactical flashlight on the table, and moved silently toward the front window, keeping myself completely out of the line of sight.
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Through the gaps in the porch blinds, I saw a black unmarked pickup truck parked near the old barn. Two shadowy figures stepped out, carrying heavy duffel bags and moving with tactical precision—low profiles, disciplined spacing, and purposeful strides. They weren't local thugs; they moved like professional security contractors or mercenary enforcers accustomed to nighttime clearing operations.
They were heading straight for the back entrance.
