Page 54 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

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T he second I saw the glint, every muscle in my body went tight.

Rooftop, two o’clock.

Sable’s perch.

“Raven, River—eyes up, two blocks ahead, roof on the west side,” I said into the radio.

“Copy,” River replied, his voice already sharpening.

The convoy rolled forward, tires crunching over cracked asphalt. The kids didn’t know—couldn’t know—how fast things were about to get ugly. In the lead SUV, Raven was angled halfway out his window, rifle tucked and ready.

Then the first shot cracked.

Not at us.

At the lead SUV’s driver-side tire.

The vehicle swerved, but River corrected instantly, keeping it steady. “She’s trying to slow us,” he barked.

The second shot followed a heartbeat later—clean, precise, aimed at the back wheel of our tail vehicle. The metal shuddered under the hit.

“Go, go, go!” I yelled, leaning out the window to scan the rooftops.

Aponi was right beside me, her gun up, eyes sweeping. “Rooftop’s clear now—she’s moving.”

“Of course she is,” I muttered. Sable never stayed still long enough to give you a shot.

Faron’s voice came over the communication radios. “Two more shooters—alley to the east. Not her style. She’s brought friends.”

The convoy picked up speed, engines growling as we tore through the neighborhood. Windows blurred by—graffiti-tagged walls, chain-link fences, boarded-up shops.

A shot rang out from the east alley. Gage swung the middle vehicle wide, putting himself between the fire and the lead SUV. Bullets sparked off his side panel.

“Raven, keep pushing north,” I ordered. “We’re going to run them right out of their angles.”

“That’s assuming they don’t box us in first,” Raven replied, his voice flat.

Another crack—a round pinged off the frame right above Aponi’s head. She didn’t flinch, just pivoted, leaned across me, and returned fire.

The shooter’s head vanished behind a chimney.

I pulled us tight into the convoy’s rear position. “Faron, talk to me.”

“They’re herding us west,” he said. “Away from the highway.”

Right into her trap.

I glanced at Aponi, her jaw tight, eyes locked forward. She already knew it.

“We break south,” I decided. “Now.”

Gage didn’t hesitate—he yanked the wheel hard, cutting across a side street. Raven followed, the convoy shifting fast. Tires squealed, kids yelped in the back.

Aponi caught my arm. “She’s going to follow.”

“Good,” I said, the burn in my shoulder nothing compared to the heat crawling up my spine. “This time, we choose where it ends.”