My Dead War-Hero Father Just Called My Cell Phone—And The General Pointing A Gun At Me Isn't Who He Pretends To Be

""Get down!"" Thomas roared, diving across the table and tackling Hannah and Agent Lin to the floor just as the living room windows disintegrated.

A hail of heavy 20mm cannon fire ripped through the roof and walls of the lodge. Cedar beams snapped like toothpicks, exploding into clouds of splinters and burning insulation. Furniture was shredded to ribbons in seconds.

""The upload!"" Lin screamed, clutching the laptop under her body, shielding the screen with her torso. ""The satellite link is running on the internal battery, but if the antenna on the roof gets sheared off, the data packet fails!""

Hannah looked at the laptop screen. UPLOAD PROGRESS: 48%.

""Three minutes!"" Hannah shouted over the deafening roar of the helicopters hovering directly above the tree line. ""We need three minutes!""

""They're deploying fast-ropes!"" Thomas yelled, crawling toward a locked gun locker embedded in the floor. He punched in a combination, throwing the lid open. Inside were three tactical assault rifles and stacks of loaded magazines. ""Orion’s final cleanup crew. They aren't here to negotiate!""

He tossed a rifle to Hannah. She caught it, racked the charging handle with practiced ease, and checked the sight.

""Dad, take the left window!"" she commanded, her training taking over without hesitation. ""Lin, keep that laptop shielded in the fireplace hearth! General, stay down!""

Ward was already pulling a service pistol from his shoulder holster, his eyes blazing despite his sickness. ""I've spent eighteen years waiting for this fight, Specialist. I'm not dying under an armchair.""

Outside, eight heavily armored mercenaries hit the gravel driveway from the helicopter fast-ropes, advancing in a tight tactical wedge, assault rifles blazing.

Hannah leaned around the shattered frame of the dining room window, settled her crosshairs on the lead mercenary, and squeezed the trigger. A double-tap took him down instantly. Beside her, Thomas fired controlled, lethal bursts from his rifle, dropping two more operatives as they tried to flank the porch.

Father and daughter fought side by side, their movements synchronized as if they had trained together their entire lives. Thomas covered her reloads; Hannah called out targets advancing through the tree line.

""They're bringing up an RPG!"" Thomas shouted, spotting a mercenary kneeling behind the SUV with an anti-tank launcher.

Hannah didn't hesitate. She scrambled across the burning debris of the kitchen, pushed through the rear screen door, and hauled herself onto the low slope of the lodge's cedar roof.

Machine-gun fire chewed through the shingles beneath her boots. She steadied her breath, dropped to one knee, aligned her rifle sights with the mercenary behind the SUV, and fired three rounds through the vehicle's windshield glass.

The RPG gunner collapsed, his rocket firing wildly into the cliffside, showering the driveway in loose rock and dust.

Suddenly, a sharp, burning agony tore through Hannah's left shoulder.

The impact knocked her off balance, sending her sliding down the roof. She caught the rain gutter with her right hand, dangling over the porch as blood soaked through her uniform sleeve.

Looking up, she saw the second attack helicopter hovering fifty feet away, its side door open, a sniper lining up a kill shot straight at her chest.

A deafening blast shook the valley.

From the porch below, General Ward stepped out into the open, carrying a shoulder-fired Stinger missile launcher Thomas had kept in the bunker's armory. Ward was bleeding from his mouth, barely able to stand, but his aim was dead center.

""For Thomas Reyes!"" Ward roared into the thunder of the rotor wash.

The missile streaked from the tube in a white-hot trail of fire, slamming directly into the helicopter's engine block. The aircraft blossomed into a massive fireball, spiraling out of control before crashing into the granite ravine below in a thunderous explosion of black smoke.

The second helicopter banked sharply and fled across the mountain ridge, its crew abandoning the ground assault.

Hannah dropped from the gutter onto the porch, clutching her bleeding shoulder. Thomas rushed out, catching her before she hit the deck, hauling her inside the smoke-filled lodge.

Inside the fireplace hearth, Agent Lin stood up, holding the laptop in trembling hands.