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The Tavern is locked down.

Windows covered.

Entries secured.

Men moving with purpose.

But it’s not enough.

Because someone already got inside.

Which means we’re behind.

I don’t like being behind.

“Perimeter’s clear,” Ace calls from the front. “No movement outside.”

“Too clean,” I mutter.

Because it is.

Whoever came in knew what they were doing.

This wasn’t sloppy.

This was planned.

Targeted.

My gaze sweeps the room, tracking movement, counting heads.

Always counting.

Always knowing where everyone is.

Aspen stays close to me like I told her to.

Good.

Smart.

Her eyes move constantly, taking everything in.

Not panicked.

Focused.

Stronger than most people in this situation.

Stronger than she probably realizes.

Dylan is still in the room upstairs with Rylie and Grandpa, playing with his Xbox One, one of the guys posted outside the door.

Safe.