Page 69 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

I didn’t see his hand move.

One second, Graves was standing in the mine’s mouth, smiling like a man holding all the cards.

The next, he flicked something small and black—like a garage remote—before slipping it into his jacket pocket.

The ground shuddered.

A deep, guttural crack split the night, followed by the grinding roar of ancient stone giving way. The mine’s supports screamed, a sound so raw it rattled my bones.

“Down!” Tag’s voice cut through the chaos, but the blast of dust and debris hit before I could drop. The air went white with grit, the world a blur of choking earth and splintered wood.

I coughed, eyes stinging, ears ringing. Somewhere to my left, someone shouted my name—but the sound was muffled, distant. I turned toward it, toward Tag—

And saw the collapse slam down between us.

An avalanche of rock and rusted steel filled the entrance, sealing me inside the mine. The light from outside narrowed to a sliver… then vanished.

The silence that followed was worse than the noise.

Footsteps echoed behind me. Slow. Unhurried.

Graves.

“You always were brave,” his voice rolled out, calm and conversational, like we were meeting for coffee. “But bravery only gets you so far underground.”

I raised my pistol, my heartbeat loud in my ears. “You’re not walking me out of here.”

He laughed, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. “Oh, Detective… you’re walking yourself out. You just don’t know it yet.”

Somewhere deeper in the mine, a light flickered on—yellow, weak, like it belonged to an old lantern. It wasn’t enough to see him clearly, but I could see his shadow stretching long across the uneven ground, moving away.

“Come find me,” he called, his voice fading into the dark.

I kept my gun up and followed, every instinct screaming that this was exactly what he wanted.

But I wasn’t letting Graves disappear again.