Page 96 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Aponi

T he desert wind howled across the ridgeline as the Black Hawks cut their engines.

We were two klicks out.

Silent, invisible, and ready to tear down the nest they built for me.

Tag adjusted his scope beside me, eyes scanning the horizon. Faron and Gideon crouched nearby, weapons ready. Raven was already moving through the shadows with Cyclone and Gage, flanking the south side of the compound.

Kaylie’s voice crackled in my earpiece. “You’ve got motion sensors at the front gate, heat signatures in the tower, and three patrol rotations. I'm jamming cameras now. You’ve got a twelve-minute window before backup protocols engage.”

“Copy,” I whispered. “Moving in.”

We dropped into the canyon single-file, the earth crunching beneath our boots. Every step closer tightened something in my chest—not fear. Not even rage.

Resolve.

This was the place where they tried to forge me into something sharp enough to kill for them. But I’d made my own blade—and now I was pointing it back at them.

The Nest came into view, tucked behind a series of jagged rocks and razor wire fencing. Floodlights swung slow arcs across the ground.

And right there in the center…

Her.

Tessa Lawson.

Standing under a spotlight like she was waiting for a red carpet, hands behind her back, flanked by two guards with rifles. Black tactical suit. Silver eye tattoo peeking from beneath her jaw.

My stomach twisted.

She smiled when she saw me.

"Welcome home, Isabelle,” her voice echoed through the compound. “You always did like to make an entrance.”

I raised my weapon, finger hovering over the trigger.

“Don’t,” she called. “Not yet. You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Tag stepped up beside me. “Let me put her down.”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “I want her to see me first.”

Tessa stepped forward. “So serious, darling. You never appreciated the poetry of your design.”

I didn’t answer.

I walked through the gate alone, ignoring the guards aiming weapons at me. They didn’t fire.

They weren’t supposed to.

I was still the prize.

“You think you know who you are,” Tessa said. “But you only remember what we let you remember.”

“I remember enough,” I said.

“Oh?” she smirked. “Then tell me—do you remember him ?”

She nodded toward the eastern door of the compound.

It opened.

And a man stepped out. I had never seen him before.

“No, I don’t know him.”

He looked at me and frowned. “This is not my daughter.” He said with anger in his eyes.

“I told you,” I whispered. “They have the wrong woman.”