Page 83 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

T he wind howled across the rail yard, lifting dust and dry leaves into spinning little devils as we moved into position. I crouched behind a rusted-out railcar, heart hammering too hard for the calm I was faking.

Tag’s voice came in low and steady over the radios. “Team One in position.”

I clicked twice in reply. Two short bursts of confirmation. Team Two was in place too.

The air was tense—too quiet for a crew supposedly hauling something big. No guard posted. No lookout. Just four black SUVs parked like bait under the flickering yard light.

“Something’s off,” Gideon muttered from his perch above, sniper scope sweeping the area. “I’m not seeing movement.”

Exactly , I thought. Which means Graves is.

I signaled our team forward in slow increments.

Cyclone was ghosting along the left flank, Raven covering the east entry.

Faron’s crew mirrored our movements on the opposite side.

Tag was somewhere to my right, and though I couldn’t see him, I could feel him.

That awareness hadn’t left me since he touched my hand in the ops room.

I edged closer to the lead vehicle, gun drawn, every nerve on alert. The windows were blacked out. I motioned for Kaylie—our newest addition—to pop the lock. When she said she was coming with us there was no arguing with her. She had so much talent with locks we were all amazed.

She slid forward, crouched low, and worked her magic in seconds.

Click.

The door creaked open, and I aimed my flashlight inside.

Empty.

Not a single soul. Just stacks of phones, burner ones, all powered off and taped together like bricks. A setup.

“Same here,” Faron’s voice came through comms. “SUV number two’s packed with security cams and live feeds. This was about surveillance.”

I moved to the second vehicle. Opened it.

And that’s when I saw it—my face, frozen on one of the paused video screens. One of them was me walking into the rec center. Another was me talking to the girl we rescued last week. A third was Tag, stepping out of my house, shirtless and holding my coffee mug.

I swallowed hard. “He’s been watching us.”

Tag’s voice was low and sharp. “What the hell is this?”

“Leverage,” I said, feeling the chill crawl up my spine. “He couldn’t hurt us from inside that cell, so he’s using our lives out here to make a point.”

“This isn’t a trap,” Raven said darkly. “It’s a warning.”

But it didn’t feel like a warning to me. It felt like the opening move of a bigger game.

Then Kaylie cursed. “We’ve got motion—back of the yard. Small form, running.”

“Go!” I shouted.

Tag was already in motion. I bolted after him, gravel skidding under my boots. The figure ahead was fast—barefoot, darting between train cars.

A girl.

She couldn’t have been older than thirteen. Thin. Wild-eyed. And terrified.

She nearly slammed into me as I caught her, arms locking around her trembling frame. “It’s okay, you’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

She didn’t speak—just shoved something into my hands. A small flash drive.

Tag caught up, panting. “Who is she?”

“She didn’t say,” I murmured, staring down at the drive. “But I think she’s the reason we’re here.”

The girl clung to my side, eyes locked behind us. “He said... if I ran... he’d come back. He said someone worse than him is coming. I grabbed the drive when I ran out.

Tag looked at me, jaw tight. “Graves isn’t the puppet master anymore.”

I nodded. “He’s the puppet.”