Page 12 of Tag
I nodded slowly, fury curling low and tight in my belly.
“They picked the wrong city,” I said.
His eyes met mine.
“No,” Tag said. “They picked the wrong woman.”
11
Tag
I’d seen hell before—on battlefields, in warzones, in crumbling cities torn apart by greed and power.
But nothing twisted my gut like seeing teenage girls locked in cages, their eyes already hollowed out by the kind of nightmares that don’t stop when you wake up.
Back at the rec center, Aponi was pacing the floor like a panther in a cage of her own.
“We can’t wait days,” she said. “They’ll be moved. Or worse.”
I sat at the table, phone to my ear, waiting for Gideon to pick up. If anyone could get us eyes, backup, and firepower without raising red flags, it was the Golden Team.
Aponi turned to me, arms crossed. “Are you calling in your friends?”
“Yeah. We need men who won’t flinch.”
She nodded once, jaw tight. “And I’m getting in touch with the street outreach crew. If those girls were picked up around here, someone saw something.”
“Good,” I said. “We don’t do this half-cocked.”
She stopped pacing long enough to glance at me. “You do realize I’m going with you, right?”
“I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”
My phone vibrated.
Gideon’s voice came through. “Tell me you didn’t find what I think you found.”
I gave him the details—quick, quiet, brutal.
There was a pause.
“You’ve got twenty-four hours. Then we go in. I’ll pull a skeleton crew—quiet, fast, clean.”
“Copy that.”
I hung up and looked at Aponi. “Tomorrow night. Midnight.”
She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders shifting. Not gone. Just changing shape.
But before either of us could say another word, her burner phone buzzed on the table.
Unknown number.
She answered with a clipped, “This is Aponi.”
The voice on the other end was shaking. “You don’t know me. But I saw you last night. You let that girl—Kaylie—run.”
Aponi stiffened. “How do you know her?”
