A dead man cannot testify, and I wanted his confession on record.

I sat down in the wooden chair near the stove, watching the embers die out.

Time passed slowly.

Every creak of the cabin walls sounded like a footstep.

I kept my ears tuned to the quiet breathing of the twins in the next room.

They deserved a life without fear.

They deserved to wake up without looking over their shoulders.

I looked at my watch.

It was nearly midnight.

The rain began to tap gently against the glass again.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, a single short pulse.

I pulled it out.

It was a text from Marco.

*Headlights on the south road. Three vehicles.*

They had taken the bait.

They were heading straight for the cannery, expecting to find a desperate man and two tired children.

Instead, they would find Marco’s team waiting in the dark.

I stood up, checking the magazine of my pistol one last time.

I slid it back into its holster.

I needed to move.

Even though Marco was capable, I could not sit here while the final play was made.