Part 7: The Ambush
The drive back wasn't the quiet return trip I had hoped for. About twenty miles from the cabin, my lead vehicle radioed in. "Colonel, we have a problem. Two black SUVs just pulled onto the main road behind us. They aren't local law enforcement."
"Maintain speed," I ordered, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. "They want to provoke a reaction. Don't give them one."
The SUVs moved aggressively, swerving through traffic, trying to force us off the mountain road. The adrenaline spiked in my veins—the familiar, cold rush of combat. I knew these tactics. It was a classic "pit maneuver" scenario, designed to send a vehicle tumbling down the mountainside, disguised as a tragic accident.
"They're going to try to ram us," I said into the radio. "Form a defensive phalanx. Do not let them get behind the transport vehicle."
The ensuing chase was a masterclass in controlled chaos. The Prescotts’ hired guns were reckless, their driving fueled by arrogance. We, however, were calculated. As we hit a straightaway, I signaled my team. They executed a coordinated stop, forcing the SUVs to slam on their brakes.
I didn't flee. I stopped my vehicle and stepped out.
The men in the lead SUV looked confused. They expected a terrified mother, not a Colonel who had spent three tours in active war zones. I stood in the middle of the road, my arms crossed, watching them approach.
"Get back in the car, lady!" one of them shouted through the window.
I pulled out my phone and held it up. "My team is recording this entire interaction. The police are five minutes away. If you move one inch closer, I will treat this as an active combat situation, and I have the authority to engage."
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They hesitated. That was the moment I knew they had no real courage—only the borrowed authority of their employers. They turned their vehicles around and sped off, the fear in their eyes confirming that the Prescotts’ influence didn't extend to men who valued their own lives over a paycheck.
We made it back to the safehouse, but the victory was hollow. I realized then that the Prescotts weren't just going to fight me in the courts; they were going to come after my life. And I was going to be ready.
