Chapter 13 – Crossfire
1487 Words
The city glimmered like wet glass below the rooftop, sirens fading into the hum of rain. The storm had passed, but the air still felt charged, like static waiting to be touched. Rori stood at the edge, jacket clutched around her, watching the Caldera’s mirrored surface catch slivers of light. It looked peaceful from here—too peaceful for what they’d just escaped.
Ren leaned against the SUV, arms folded, scanning the skyline. Sandro sat on the hood, legs crossed, cigarette unlit between his fingers, while Kael adjusted a small signal jammer on the concrete ledge beside them. The red light blinked once, then steadied.
“Signal dead,” Kael said. “For now, no eyes, no ears.”
“Define ‘for now,’” Ren replied, voice even.
Kael looked up, calm as ever. “Thirty minutes before Maeve’s system reboots its tracking protocols.”
“So, enough time to argue,” Sandro said, hopping off the hood and flicking the cigarette away. “Or enough time to run.”
Rori turned from the ledge. “We’re not running.”
Ren’s eyes met hers. “You saw that feed. She’s in your house, Rori. That wasn’t old footage.”
“I know,” she said, steady. “That’s why we go back.”
“Back?” Sandro’s voice cracked in disbelief. “To your home? That’s the first place she’ll expect—”
“That’s the point.” Rori’s tone sharpened. “She wants me scared, reactive. She doesn’t expect me angry.”
A long beat. The rain ticked louder.
Ren pushed off the SUV, pacing slowly. “Anger doesn’t shield you from surveillance. Maeve has access to Oxalis infrastructure, probably half the city grid. She can see every camera between here and your front door.”
“Then we go dark,” Kael said, his voice soft but firm. “I can blind the route for twenty minutes. No signals, no GPS, no cell towers.”
Ren stopped pacing. “You’d have to brick the municipal nodes.”
“I already did,” Kael said.
Sandro let out a low whistle. “He’s terrifyingly calm when committing felonies.”
Rori almost smiled. “You’re all terrifying in your own way.”
Kael crouched, packing away the jammer. “The difference is, mine keeps you breathing.”
Ren gave him a sharp look—half respect, half warning. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
Kael shrugged, eyes glinting. “You mistake calm for joy, old friend.”
Their words landed with history. Rori caught it—an echo of something heavier than professional respect. She didn’t ask. Not yet.
She stepped closer to the group. “We go home,” she said again. “I need to see it with my own eyes. And I need to know if my kids are safe.”
Ren started to object, but Kael lifted a hand. “She’s right.”
Rori blinked. “You think so?”
Kael nodded. “Maeve didn’t just want to scare you. She wanted to provoke you into running. People who run are predictable. People who go back? They rewrite the rules.”
Sandro raised a brow. “And you like rewriting rules.”
Kael smiled faintly. “Only when they’re written in bad faith.”
Ren sighed, already conceding. “Fine. But we do this my way.”
“That’s the only way I ever do anything,” Rori said.
The drive south was a blur of wet streets and low clouds. Ren drove like he was part of the machine—smooth, efficient, unflinching. Kael sat in the passenger seat, laptop balanced on his knees, screens lighting his face. Sandro and Rori sat in the back, their reflections passing in the window glass like ghosts.
“Oxalis is good,” Kael murmured. “But not infallible. She’s piggybacking her signal on municipal maintenance drones. I’ll cut the relay as we get closer.”
“Won’t that set off alerts?” Ren asked.
“Exactly,” Kael said. “She’ll think we’re going the other direction.”
Sandro leaned forward between the seats. “You sure you weren’t a magician before all this?”
Kael smiled without looking up. “Everyone’s something before the war.”
Rori studied him—his stillness, his precision. Where Ren was taut control and Sandro vibrant chaos, Kael was gravity. A quiet pull that drew everything back to center. It was… grounding. Dangerous, maybe. But grounding.
Rain streaked harder across the windshield. Rori reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her phone. She hesitated before speaking. “Ren, if the feed was live, it means she’s inside.”
He nodded. “Or using remote infiltration.”
“She doesn’t need inside access,” Kael added. “Not if she piggybacked through smart infrastructure. Your home security system, the house AI—the wag, the growl, all of it—could’ve been converted into her listening post.”
Sandro glanced over. “You mean the house that wags?”
Kael smiled, just a little. “Yes. The dog-house hybrid. Impressive design, by the way.”
Rori met his gaze in the mirror. “My son named it.”
Kael’s tone softened. “Then we’ll make sure it keeps wagging.”
The quiet that followed wasn’t empty—it was focus, layered with fear and determination.
By the time they reached her neighborhood, the rain had eased into mist. The house stood at the end of the cul-de-sac, warm lights still glowing inside. Too calm. Too perfect.
Ren parked two houses down, engine running silent. “Thermal?”
Kael scanned the screen. “Two heat signatures inside. Stationary. Not human baseline temps.”
“Drones,” Ren said.
“Or decoys,” Sandro added. “She likes ghosts.”
Rori unbuckled her seatbelt. “Either way, we end it.”
Ren caught her wrist. “You stay behind me.”
She met his eyes. “Try to stop me.”
Sandro smirked. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Kael slid a compact pistol across the seat toward Ren. “Silencer attached. Keep it low.”
Ren took it. “And you?”
Kael adjusted his earpiece. “I don’t need a weapon.”
“Of course you don’t,” Sandro muttered. “You probably kill people with Wi-Fi.”
The door opened quietly. Rain mist kissed her face as Rori stepped out first, the cold air cutting the heat from her nerves. Ren flanked left, Sandro right, Kael trailing like a shadow. The house looked unchanged, but she could feel the difference—the hum beneath the siding, the faint vibration through the walkway stones.
“She’s still watching,” Kael murmured. “Stay loose.”
They moved up the path. The front door creaked open without resistance. Inside, the lights hummed—steady, too steady.
Rori stepped in first.
The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and lemon cleaner. The tablet sat on the counter, still on the home screen. The hallway camera blinked green.
Then the house wagged.
“System’s active,” Kael whispered, eyes on the lights. “But it’s not her code. It’s his.”
Rori frowned. “His?”
Kael smiled faintly. “Your son patched the system. The wag isn’t a vulnerability—it’s an override. Smart kid.”
Ren’s gaze flicked to Rori. “He learned from you.”
A sound cut through the room—metal shifting, a faint whir from the living room. They turned. The TV had powered on by itself again. For a second, Rori’s reflection filled the screen.
Then Maeve’s face replaced it. Cold. Composed.
“You’re late,” she said.
Ren raised the pistol. Kael lifted a hand. “Don’t,” he murmured. “It’s a relay.”
Maeve’s image tilted her head slightly, almost amused. “You think cutting my strings will stop the puppets from dancing?”
Sandro muttered, “God, I hate her metaphors.”
The TV went black. Every light in the house dimmed—then pulsed once, twice.
The growl.
Rori turned sharply toward Kael. “That’s not her, is it?”
He was already smiling, faint and certain. “No,” he said. “That’s your house protecting you.”
The shutters locked with a hydraulic hiss, sealing them in. Outside, headlights cut through the mist—two black SUVs rolling into the cul-de-sac, silent and smooth.
Ren’s jaw tightened. “She found us.”
Sandro cracked his neck. “Good. I was starting to get bored.”
Kael turned to Rori. “You said you were done being afraid.”
She nodded once, heart pounding. “Then let’s show her why.”
Ren chambered a round. Sandro grinned, reckless and radiant. Kael shut the jammer back on, the red light pulsing like a heartbeat.
Outside, the SUVs’ doors opened in unison.
And inside, the house wagged again.
- Writer
