I came home from a Delta deployment to find my wife in the ICU. Her face… I couldn’t recognize her. The doctor whispered, “Thirty-one fractures. Blunt force trauma. Repeated strikes.” Then I saw them outside her room—her father and his seven sons—smiling like they’d just won something. The detective said, “It’s a family matter. The police can’t touch them.” I looked at the hammer print on her skull and replied, “Good. Because I’m not the police.” “What happened to them… no court could ever judge.”

“Checkmate,” I whispered.

Sirens wailed in the distance. The police were coming. Victor heard them too.

“We have to go!” Victor screamed. “The Feds will be here!”

They ran toward their SUVs. They were fleeing to their doomsday cabin in the mountains. I knew they would.

I retreated into the woods with my son, moving to a safe house nearby to hand Leo off to Eleanor. I had one last stop to make.

—————-
I reached the mountain cabin at midnight. The snow was falling heavy and silent. I cut the fuel line to their generator, pouring sugar into the tank. It would kill the power slowly, flickering like a dying heartbeat.

I watched through the window. Victor, Felix, Grant, Ian, Kyle. They were terrified.

I kicked the back door open and threw a flashbang. BANG.

I walked into the room as they screamed, blinded. I held the hammer.