Harper looked beyond the depot to the gray horizon, where the highway disappeared into a snowstorm that promised chaos. “I understand. I’ll be where I’m supposed to be.”
The men exchanged uneasy glances. Nobody asked her further questions. At that moment, none of them realized that this quiet rookie would become the linchpin of survival before the morning was over.
Part 2: The Ambush Unfolds
By 8:15 a.m., the convoy moved through Northern Ohio’s snow-blanketed highway. Three armored trucks rolled carefully in formation, tires crunching against packed snow, visibility limited to a few dozen feet in some stretches. Harper rode in the rear cabin of the lead truck, eyes sweeping constantly, scanning mirrors, checking overpasses, noting shadows in abandoned industrial buildings, reading traffic patterns like lines in a book.
Cole Benson noticed her intensity. “Probably overthinking it,” he muttered.
