At 11:14 p.m., an eight-year-old boy walked in only his socks into the Oak Creek Sheriff’s Station, shivering from the cold and hugging a worn duffel bag to his chest.

Sarah and Miller opened fire. The element of surprise was absolute. The Captain went down immediately, shot in the leg by Miller. Vance dove behind a forklift, returning fire with a submachine gun.

The warehouse erupted into a deafening firefight. Bullets sparked off the metal machinery.

"Get the cages open!" Sarah yelled to Miller over the gunfire.

Miller sprinted toward the cages, shooting the padlocks off. The women and children poured out, scattering toward the exits. Leo's mother hesitated, looking around frantically for her children.

"Your kids are safe! Go!" Sarah shouted at her, providing cover fire.

Vance, realizing his operation was collapsing, grabbed a flare gun from a nearby supply crate and fired it into a stack of chemical drums. The drums exploded, sending a massive wall of fire shooting into the ceiling. The old, dry wood of the mill caught instantly.

"You're going to burn with this place, Deputy!" Vance screamed, running toward the loading dock doors to escape.

Sarah didn't let him. She tackled him from behind, sending them both crashing onto the concrete. Vance was stronger, punching her viciously in the jaw, but Sarah was fueled by pure, unadulterated rage. She remembered Leo's bloody socks. She remembered Maya's blue lips. She pulled her tactical knife and drove it through Vance's hand, pinning it to the wooden pallet beneath them.