Chapter 20 · Take the Gate

Iron Gate sat fifteen miles east, and the scout came back at dawn saying it was occupied.

Not by Hammer. Not yet.

A militia crew. Maybe forty people. They'd moved in three days ago, dug shallow trenches around the perimeter, and posted sentries on the north and south ridges. The gate itself was a ruin—cracked concrete bunker, rusted chain-link, a half-collapsed watchtower—but it still controlled the only paved route through the valley. Whoever held it could tax convoys, block rival supply lines, or just sit on it until someone paid them to leave.

Evie stood in the command tent with the map spread flat on the table. Cole was beside her, arms crossed. Leah leaned against the tent pole, quiet. The rest of the crew was outside, cleaning rifles or sharpening blades or pretending they weren't listening.

"Forty people," Evie said. "How many rifles?"

"Scout said maybe twelve," Cole answered. "Rest had bats, tools, couple hunting bows."

"So they're desperate."

"Or stupid."

Leah spoke up. "Or they're just trying to survive. Same as us."

Evie didn't look at her. She traced the route on the map with one finger.