My ten-year-old daughter stopped answering my calls for three days, so I drove to her mother’s house and found her l0cked inside a metal ca:g:e in the backyard.

A soft drizzle began to fall, slicking the grey limestone of the quarry and darkening the rusted steel of the hopper. The smell of wet dust rose from the ground, thick and cloying.

A low, crunching sound drew my attention.

Two men were ascending the gravel slope. They weren't rushing now; they knew we were cornered. The driver of the truck, his face bloody from where the windshield had shattered, was holding a heavy pump-action shotgun. The other man, the one in the dark utility jacket, carried a semi-automatic rifle. They moved with a synchronized efficiency, checking the corners of the rusted machinery as they approached the concrete office.

They stopped thirty yards away, using the rusted frame of an old conveyor belt for cover.

“Robert!” the man in the utility jacket called out, his voice calm, almost conversational. “We know you’re in there. We don't have any business with you or the kid. We just want the ledger.”

I didn't answer. I kept my weapon trained on the edge of the conveyor belt, my finger resting lightly on the trigger.

“Julian told us he gave the key to his wife,” the man continued, his voice carrying clearly over the gentle patter of the rain. “He said the ledger is in the cabin. We just need her to tell us exactly where it’s hidden. You give us the location, we walk away. No one else has to die today.”

I looked back at Elena. She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide with terror. She didn't know where the ledger was. Julian’s note had mentioned the floorboards of the cabin, but that was a vast, decaying structure. We hadn't found it yet. And even if we had, these men wouldn't leave witnesses. They had killed Julian; they wouldn't hesitate to eliminate us once they had what they wanted.

“There is no ledger!” I shouted back, my voice echoing off the quarry walls. “The police have all of Julian’s files! They’re already processing the accounts!”

A short, dry laugh was the only response. “If the police had the ledger, Vance wouldn't be searching the county for it. Julian kept his personal transactions off the main servers. We know it’s in the cabin. Last chance, Robert. Give us the key, or we take it from her.”

The man with the shotgun stepped out from behind the conveyor belt, raising his weapon toward the window of the concrete office.

I didn't wait for him to shoot. I squeezed the trigger twice.

The first round struck the metal frame of the conveyor belt, sending a shower of sparks into the air. The second round caught the shooter in the shoulder. He grunted, stumbling backward, his shotgun discharging harmlessly into the gravel as he fell.

The man in the utility jacket immediately opened fire with his rifle. A hail of high-velocity rounds shattered the remaining glass in the window, chewing into the concrete blocks of my barricade. The noise inside the small room was deafening, a chaotic roar of gunfire and flying stone chips.

“Get down!” I yelled to Elena, curling my body tightly behind the concrete wall as dust and debris rained down on my back.

The barrage stopped as suddenly as it had begun. He was reloading.

I peered over the edge of the sill. The injured man was dragging himself behind the conveyor belt, leaving a dark smear of blood on the wet gravel. The shooter in the utility jacket was moving to the left, trying to flank the building and gain a angle on the doorway.

I had seven rounds left.

I couldn't stay in this room. If he reached the side of the building, he could fire through the rotted wooden door, and the concrete partition wouldn't protect Elena and Maya from a flanking angle.

I looked at the overturned metal desk wedged in the doorway. It was a heavy obstacle, but the gap at the top was wide enough for a man to climb through if he was desperate.

“Elena,” I whispered, crawling back to the alcove. “Listen to me. When I start shooting, I want you to take Maya and run out the back window. There’s a small opening near the ground where the generator ventilation pipe used to be. It leads to the slope behind the building. Slide down to the bottom of the pit and hide in the machinery.”

“What about you?” she asked, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m going to make sure he doesn't follow you,” I said. I reached out, touching Maya’s damp forehead. “I’ll find you. I promise.”

I didn't wait for her to argue. I stood up, moved to the doorway, and fired three rapid shots through the rotted wood of the door, aiming for the area where the shooter would be approaching.

A sharp cry of pain told me I had hit something, but before I could celebrate, a heavy shoulder slammed against the barricaded door. The metal desk groaned, sliding back a few inches.