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What am I doing ? I can’t leave Thomas to deal with whoever is coming . Adam yanked the wheel to the left, but instead of turning around, the tires lost traction. The truck fishtailed, then skidded sideways off the road into a low snowbank.

He slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “UGHHHHHH!” He shifted the gear into reverse, but the truck didn’t move. The tires only spun in place, sending up dirt and snow.

“We’re stuck!” Peter grumbled.

Adam sighed and switched off the headlights to save the battery. Not that his father had ever run into a snowbank, but the truck had gotten stuck in the mud when they’d gone hunting and a storm crept up on them. In those situations, his father had wedged a piece of wood under the tires.

Thankfully, the north side of the road got more sun, so the snow mound barely passed the bottom of the door.

Adam shoved the door hard, edging his way through the small gap — until bright lights flooded the road.

A massive black truck barreled toward them, its high beams cutting through the snowfall, reflecting off the icy ground.

He barely had time to scramble back inside before it roared past, spraying slush and dirt over the truck.

“What the hell?” Peter twisted on the bench seat, peering out the rear window. “Is that truck going to our —”

Another set of lights pierced through the darkness. Adam squinted against the glare. The faint moonlight from earlier had vanished, swallowed by the dead of night. Another truck tore by them, rattling their own like a toy in its wake.

Yeah, the trucks are going to our house, along with the killers inside .

What chance did Thomas and Jeff have?

Adam’s heart pounded faster. He snatched the small backpack off the floor and dug through it, pulling out the revolver. Checking the cylinder to confirm the gun was loaded, he fumbled for the box of bullets, exhaling when he felt the familiar cardboard. He shoved the box deep into his coat pocket.

Peter clutched his hand. “What are you doing?”

Adam brushed off his brother’s hand. “Stay here! I mean it, Peter. One way or another, I’m leaving here tonight. If you leave this truck, I won’t take you with me.”

Adam hated threatening him, but he knew Peter’s greatest fear was losing him. While they all got along, mostly, for whatever reason, Peter had always wanted to be with him — not Thomas.

“Please don’t go, Adam. I’m scared.”

“I’m scared, too, but I have to. Thomas needs my help.” He raised a hand to Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that. Dad and Mom said they’d be right back. And they never —”

“I’m not Dad and Mom.” Adam jumped out of the truck and charged back toward the house. If trouble was coming, Thomas needed him. When they’d hunted, Dad always said that Adam was a crack shot . Thomas shouldn’t have forced him to leave.

With his lean frame, Adam was also the fastest runner. He plowed through the snow, his gaze locked on the truck lights illuminating the entrance to their property.

The trucks suddenly slowed.

The headlights blazed through the barren trees surrounding the cabin — likely meant to blind anyone watching, while casting enough light behind the attackers to guide their assault.

Adam broke off to the left, charging through the trees. He knew their property like the back of his hand. Riding his horse, Bolt, and playing hide ’n seek with his brothers had prepared him for this moment.

He knew the location of every low-hanging limb and hole.

Adam zigzagged through the trees faster than he’d ever run, even as the icy air burned his lungs.

brRAAAP . A burst of automatic gunfire shredded the silence followed by the CRACK, CRACK, CRACK of bullets ripping through the trees.

Smack !

The impact sent Adam face-first into the snow, the revolver flying out of his grip.

Fast hot breaths buffeted his exposed cheek, icy pins assaulted the other side of his face.

“Stay… down!” threatened the whispered words.

Jeff ! Thank God !

“I counted eight. Three are down. But then my damn 1911 jammed.” Jeff stretched his long arms, quickly groping for the revolver. He lifted the .38 and aimed at a shadow rounding the cabin.

A soft click . Then — BANG ! — a shot rang out. A heavy WHOMP followed as a black-clad body hit the snow, sending up fresh white powder.

Adam clamped a hand against his ear, but nothing drowned out the barrage of gunfire.

Whiz . Whiz . Whiz .

Snow exploded outward, pelleting his body with icy bits.

Jeff pulled the trigger again. Click . BANG ! WHOMP . Another body.

On all fours, Jeff skittered forward, military-style, as if crawling under razor wire toward the cabin. He moved to a squat, peeking around the siding, took aim, and pulled the trigger — again and again. Each click returned a BANG — then a WHOMP .

Jeff really was a crack shot.

Quiet engulfed his homestead again.

Jeff lowered his arm, the gun falling slack in his hand. He turned toward Adam. “Thanks for the gun, kid. I would’a been a goner for sure.”

Adam pulled himself upright out of the snow but didn’t stand. Instead he leaned backward, resting on his knees.

“Thomas?” Adam gulped down his brother’s name. If Thomas weren’t hurt, he’d be shouting for Jeff after hearing all the bad guys hit the deck.

Jeff walked back to him. “I’m sorry, kid. I tried. I told him not to — Damn. I’m so sorry.”

Adam fell forward, hands shaking. His vision tunneled, like staring up from the bottom of one of the closed gold mines Dad had shown them — warned there was no escape if they fell in.

A guttural moan emanated from deep within his core. “No!” Feeling like he couldn’t breathe, he sucked in the icy air, choking. “Nooooooooo.”

Jeff squatted in front of Adam, lifting him and shoving the revolver back into his possession. “I know, kid. I wish there were something else I could’ve — I tried to save him. You gotta go. I’ll clean this up.”

Adam released the gun; he didn’t want anything to do with it. “I can’t leave.”

Jeff clasped his shoulders and shook him.

“You have to think about yourself and Peter. Thomas knew what he was doing. I warned him. God knows I warned him.” He reached down and scooped up the revolver.

“You’ll need this. Okay? I’m going to clean this up, and then I’m leaving town, entering the military. ”

Adam stared up at Jeff. None of this made sense.

“Tom said no one came to check on you and your brother since your parents passed. That true?”

Adam lowered his head, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah…” he huffed beneath his breath.

“Don’t go to Anchorage. Too many people there. They’ll ask too many questions.” Jeff looked left and right, then shook his head. “Go to Wasilla. An older woman runs a horse ranch there. She’s the one who helped Tom sell off your stuff. Word is she has a soft spot for strays.”

Adam blinked. Stuff ? My horse . Bolt .

Jeff bent forward, eye-to-eye with him. “Kid, you have to listen to me. You have to go. That was a lot of gunfire. As far out in the sticks we are, I doubt anyone heard it, but I need to clean up this mess. Wait a few years, then come back to Falcon Run and claim your property. Understand?”

Numb physically and mentally, Adam shook his head but then nodded. “Go to Wasilla.”

“That’s right. What else?”

“Protect Peter.”

“You’re gonna be okay, kid. Tom always said you were the smart one.”

Adam sniffed back tears. Tom had never called him smart before tonight, not to his face, anyway.

Adam glanced toward the cabin. His heart screamed to go back, to fight to keep them in their family home as Thomas had for the last two years.

But what could he do? He was only sixteen.

Thomas had tried — and failed. Now Adam had to take the reins.

He couldn’t fail. He was the only family Peter had left.

Jeff rested a heavy hand on Adam’s shoulder. “One last thing, kid. I ever hear you get involved with drug dealers, I’ll come back and shoot you myself.”

* * *

Adam ran the entire way back to the truck without looking back. The moon, no longer hiding, reflected off the fresh powder, lending a blue hue over the no-named street that led to the family cabin.

No matter. He didn’t need to duck low-hanging limbs or dodge holes dug by Arctic ground squirrels.

He doubted more assassins were coming down the road that led to his house.

Jeff had taken out five men before Adam’s eyes, three of them before Adam even made it back to the house.

Or perhaps Thomas had taken out one or two when Jeff’s gun jammed.

Adam should be grateful that Jeff had taken his gun, thankful that he hadn’t had to take a life.

Could he have? He’d killed animals, but he’d only killed to eat.

The one time a brown bear had startled him, he’d skipped a beat, unable to pull the trigger.

Thankfully, the bear hadn’t charged. If he had, it would have been “ Bye-Bye, Adam ,” as his dad used to tease.

A hundred yards from the truck, Adam stopped in the road, doubled over, and emptied the contents of his stomach, which wasn’t much. He dropped to a squat and cried into his hands.

No one had given his parents a funeral. The funeral home simply handed Thomas two white cardboard boxes. When Adam looked inside the plain boxes once they returned home, he’d seen that each of his parents had been placed in a clear plastic bag with a twist-tie top.

All through grade school, his mother had lovingly prepared him PB he’d been trying to take care of their family.

While it might have been a stupid decision, it’d been an honorable one.

“I’ll give you the honor you deserve, Thomas.

I know you did your best. Now it’s my turn. We Midnight Sons always forge forward.”