Page 49 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

T he flashbang went off like the sun detonating at our feet—white heat, teeth-rattling thunder, and the sharp ozone tang of spent powder.

Shouts erupted outside, the clean rhythm of rifle fire breaking into staccato chaos.

Tag was already out the door, moving low, rifle tucked tight to his shoulder. I followed, my gun a familiar weight in my grip. Faron flanked to our left, drawing the fire from the SUV while I covered Tag’s right.

Dust churned under our boots, clinging to sweat and grit. The canyon walls threw back every shot until it felt like we were in the middle of a war drum.

“Two on your right!” I shouted, catching movement in my periphery.

Tag pivoted, double-tapping both targets before they hit the dirt. He didn’t pause—just kept moving, eyes locked on the ridgeline ahead where Sable had vanished.

More shadows appeared through the haze—Graves’ operatives regrouping fast. One dropped behind a rusted-out water tank, spraying rounds to pin us in.

Faron took him out, voice crackling in my earpiece. “Pushing left!”

That’s when I saw her.

Sable.

Perched on a rock outcrop above us, rifle braced, the muzzle already tracking me.

I didn’t think—I just moved. But in that split second, I knew I wasn’t going to make it out of her sights.

Tag did.

He lunged, shoving me hard enough that my back slammed into the canyon wall. His shoulder took the hit meant for my head—a sharp, wet impact that knocked him sideways.

“Tag!”

He hit the ground with a grunt, one hand pressed to the dark stain spreading across his shirt. “Stay… down…”

The air went razor-sharp. Every instinct in me screamed to go for Sable, but her position was too good. She’d have me before I made it halfway.

Instead, I crawled to Tag, dragging him into the narrow shadow of the wall as bullets kicked up dirt around us. His breath came short, but his eyes stayed locked on mine.

“You okay?” I whispered.

He gave a half-smile that looked more like a grimace. “Takes… more than her…”

Something shifted in the dust above—Sable pulling back, vanishing behind the rock. Not retreating.

Repositioning.

Faron’s voice cut in. “We’ve got thirty seconds before they close the gap. We need an exit, now!”

I tightened my grip on Tag’s arm. “Can you run?”

His gaze flicked to the rifle still in his hands. “I can fight.”