Page 36 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

T he safehouse was tucked into a canyon near the Arizona border—no cell signal, no neighbors, and only one road in.

It wasn’t much.

A stone chimney, creaky floorboards, a coffee pot that only worked if you threatened it.

But it was quiet.

And for the first time in days, I wasn’t watching every shadow like it might shoot back.

I stood outside on the porch, coffee mug in hand, blanket wrapped tight around my shoulders. The sun was just breaking over the ridge. Everything smelled like juniper and ash and the kind of wild you only get this far from civilization.

But something felt… off.

Wrong.

Tag stepped out behind me, barefoot, shirtless, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You’ve been out here since four.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“You think Graves is coming?”

I didn’t answer right away.

“I don’t think,” I whispered. “I know .”

He moved in close, wrapping his arms around me from behind. His body was warm. Solid.

“I trust you,” he murmured.

I closed my eyes. “Then trust this—something’s already moving. We’re being hunted.”