Page 26 of Carnival Shadows

The mention of Sofia reminds me how much Ty’s changed since she came into his life. He used to micromanage every aspect of the carnival. Still, lately, he’s let her take over more of the ringmaster’s duties. Not that anyone’s complaining—she’s got a natural talent for it.

“Alright, let’s get this shit sorted.” Ty checks his phone again. “Lars, take the north position. Remy, you’re with me on the exchange. Gage will cover our backs.”

We fall into our familiar roles, the routine of it settling my thoughts. The weight of the duffle bag in my hand grounds me in the present moment. This matters now—not the green-eyed stalker who’s consumed my thoughts.

Ty’s phone buzzes. “Buyers are early. Everyone in position.”

I shoulder the bag, following Ty to the meeting point. In the distance, the carnival lights paint the sky in neon. Sofia’s commanding the crowd’s attention somewhere under that glow, giving Ty the freedom to handle this side of our operation.

I stand beside Ty as headlights sweep across the lumber yard. Miguel Martinez’s black SUV pulls up, flanked by two morevehicles. More muscle than usual suggests he isn’t happy about the price adjustment.

“Six guards?” I say to Ty. “He’s spoiling for trouble.”

Ty adjusts his jacket. “Let me handle the talking.”

Miguel steps out, his expensive suit starkly contrasting to the dusty yard. His face remains neutral, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

“Tyson.” Miguel’s accent wraps around the name like steel. “That was some bullshit message you sent about the new rates.”

“Cost of business, Miguel.” Ty keeps his tone light. “Everything’s going up these days.”

“Twenty percent is notgoing up. It’s robbery.” Miguel’s guards spread out, hands hovering near concealed weapons.

I shift my weight, cataloging threats and escape routes.

“You know how it is,” Ty says. “Fuel costs, border security, new routes. We’re eating most of the increase ourselves.”

Miguel’s laugh holds no humor. “You expect me to believe that? The carnival’s been a good cover for years, but don’t get greedy now.”

“Take it or leave it.” Ty’s voice hardens. “You won’t find another operation as clean as ours. How many shipments have we lost? How many arrests?”

The silence stretches as Miguel considers. His men grow restless, fingers twitching near holsters. One wrong move and this yard becomes a war zone.

“Perhaps we should discuss this further,” Miguel finally says. “In private.”

“Nothing to discuss.” Ty stands his ground. “New rate starts tonight. Your choice if you want the shipment.”

I watch Miguel’s jaw work as he processes Ty’s ultimatum. His right hand keeps twitching toward his jacket, which is a classic tell for a concealed shoulder holster. The pulse in his neck throbs visibly.

“Fine.” He spits the word like poison. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

Miguel snaps his fingers, and one of his men brings forward a briefcase. The clasps click open with sharp precision. Even in the dim light, I can see the neat stacks of bills inside.

Ty doesn’t flinch as Miguel practically throws the case at him. “Always a pleasure doing business.”

I proceed with our duffel, maintaining eye contact with Miguel’s crew. The exchange happens fast. But there’s no usual casual banter, no subtle nods of respect.

Miguel snatches the bag, checking the contents with quick, angry movements. His nostrils flare as he zips it closed. “Twenty percent. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Ty’s voice stays steady. “Nothing personal.”

“Everything in this business is personal.” Miguel’s dark eyes lock onto mine briefly before shifting back to Ty. “Remember that.”

His crew piles back into their vehicles, engines growling to life. Miguel’s the last to leave, his rigid posture screaming fury as he slides behind the wheel. The SUVs kick up dust as they tear out of the lumber yard, their taillights disappearing into the darkness.

“Well, that was fun.” Ty hefts the briefcase. “Let’s get this counted and stored before the night show ends.”

I notice how his shoulders stay tense, and his eyes scan the shadows. Miguel’s not the type to let this slide; we both know it.

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