“They want to drive you toward the western ridge where they have snipers waiting.”

Another burst of gunfire rattled the metal roof.

The vet was crouched in the corner behind a stack of hay bales, his head in his hands.

“You have ten seconds to decide,” Dante said.

He drew a heavy semi-automatic pistol from beneath his coat.

“If you stay, you are in the middle of a war.”

“I am already in the middle of it,” I said.

I pulled my hand away from Vesper’s flank and stepped toward Dante.

“Vance thinks he has you cornered here,” I said.

“But he left his rear flank completely open.”

“The western ridge is steep,” Dante said. “No one can bring vehicles down it.”

“They don’t need vehicles,” I said.

“There is an old logging trail that connects to Kroll’s main smuggling route.”

“The one they use for the high-value shipments.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“That route is a myth,” Dante said. “My people have searched those hills for years.”

“You searched for tire tracks,” I said.

“They don’t use trucks there. They use pack mules and light ATVs under the canopy.”