Page 50 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Tag

P ain burned hot in my shoulder, every movement sending white sparks across my vision. But pain meant I was still breathing. And if I were breathing, I could fight.

Aponi crouched low beside me, her gun steady, her eyes scanning for openings. Faron was thirty yards ahead, firing in controlled bursts to keep the bastards pinned.

“On my go,” I rasped. “We push right, use the wall for cover. Keep moving. Don’t stop.”

Aponi’s mouth was a tight line, but she nodded.

I gritted my teeth and rose with her, rifle up. Faron laid down another volley, and we broke—boots pounding, bullets chewing the air around us.

The canyon funneled us into a narrow bend. Bad ground. Too many blind angles. I knew it, Faron knew it—hell, even Aponi knew it. But the only way out was through.

We hit the turn at full speed—

And Sable was there.

She came out of the shadows like a blade, slamming into Aponi so hard they hit the dirt in a tangle of limbs. Apon’s gun skittered away, clattering against the rock.

“Aponi!” I roared, swinging the rifle up—

Too late.

Sable had her pinned, one knee crushing her chest, pistol aimed square at her face.

“You’ve got two seconds to tell me where it is,” Sable hissed, eyes wild but voice ice-cold. “Or I paint this canyon with your blood.”

Aponi’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then get your hands bloody.”

Faron’s shout cut through—“Tag, MOVE!”—as he fired, forcing Sable to twist, the shot ripping the sleeve off her tactical jacket. Blood running down her arm. Aponi used the opening, twisting under her and driving her elbow into Sable’s ribs.

I was already moving, ignoring the tearing pain in my shoulder as I grabbed Sable’s gun arm and wrenched it away. She fought like a damn storm—sharp, fast, relentless—but I slammed her into the canyon wall hard enough to rattle teeth.

Her head snapped back, eyes locking on mine. “This isn’t over, Tag.”

“Damn right it’s not,” I growled—

But before I could finish it, she threw herself sideways into a shadowed crevice and was gone, swallowed by the rock.

Faron was on us in seconds, sweeping the ridge for any sign of her. “She’s pulling back.”

“Not for long,” I said, pulling Aponi up. Her hands trembled, but her eyes burned with something fierce. “You should have killed her.”

“And if she turned with you, it would have been you I killed. I would never risk losing you.”

We ran.

Through the bend, past the last rise, until the canyon spat us out into open desert, and the burn in my lungs was the only thing louder than the pounding in my head.

Behind us, the silence settled again.

But it didn’t feel like victory.

It felt like a promise.