Page 55 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

T he industrial district rose out of the heat haze like a rusted skeleton—abandoned warehouses, chain-link lots, and stacks of shipping containers leaning at odd angles.

Perfect cover for an ambush.

Perfect cover for us, too, if we played it right.

Tag’s voice was low in my communications. “River, Raven—lock the kids down in that central warehouse. Gage, Faron, you’re with me on perimeter.”

No hesitation. The convoy split clean. The lead SUVs rolled toward the yawning mouth of a corrugated warehouse while Tag swung our vehicle in a wide arc, keeping his rifle trained on the rooftops.

I scanned the skeletal walkways above, the gaps between containers. The air here felt different —too still, too deliberate.

“She’s here,” I said.

Tag’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

The kids moved fast, shepherded by River and Raven into the warehouse’s shadow. Kaylie glanced back once, her eyes meeting mine, before disappearing inside. My chest eased just a fraction knowing she was under cover.

Then the shot came.

A clean crack from the south side rooftop. Faron’s return fire answered instantly, pinning the shooter, but I already knew it wasn’t Sable. She wouldn’t waste her opening shot on anything less than a kill.

Movement—above the catwalk connecting two warehouse roofs.

Sable.

Black gear, low profile, rifle slung as she moved fast and silent across the span. She wasn’t coming for the Golden Team. She was coming for me.

“Tag—”

“I see her.” His voice was steady, controlled, but his eyes were locked.

Faron’s voice came over the radio. “Three more tangos east side, advancing.”

“Hold them,” Tag ordered. “We finish this here.”

He pushed open the truck door and stepped out, motioning for me to stay.

I didn’t.

We moved together across the lot, the scent of hot metal and old oil hanging heavy in the air. Sable dropped from the catwalk into the shadow of a container stack, vanishing for a heartbeat before her voice slid across the space.

“You should’ve run when you had the chance, Aponi.”

I tightened my grip on my gun. “I don’t run from people like you.”

Tag took a step forward. “You want the drive? You come through me.”

The silence that followed was razor-sharp—then she stepped out.

Close now.

No scope.

Pistol in hand.

“That can be arranged,” she said, and the air between us snapped taut.