Page 59 of Tag
We tumbled into the dirt, rolling behind the SUV as more rounds chewed into the metal. Above the crack of gunfire, I could almost hear Graves’ voice in my head—mocking, patient, certain.
Welcome to the game.
50
Aponi
The night exploded in gunfire.
The first shot had been too close, the second even closer, shattering glass and spraying the air with glittering shards. Tag’s hand clamped around my arm, dragging me behind the SUV before I could get my bearings.
The desert wind carried the echo of rifles and the sharp scent of burning metal. Gideon was already shouting coordinates into his radio, his rifle angled toward the ridge. Somewhere out there, the shooter was still hunting us.
“Stay low,” Tag ordered, his voice a calm I didn’t trust.
A bullet slammed into the dirt inches from my knee, and I couldn’t stop the flinch.
“Low isn’t working!” I hissed.
“Then move,” Tag shot back.
We scrambled toward the shadow of a shipping container, each step a gamble. Every time I thought we’d found cover, another shot cracked the air and made me doubt it.
And then the lights went out.
Floodlights, headlights, dashboard glow—gone. The darkness was so sudden it felt alive.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. “What just happened?”
Tag’s gaze swept the blacked-out yard. “They cut the power. They want us blind.”
The communication in Gideon’s ear crackled, a voice barely audible over the static:They’re moving in on the east side. Not the men—your package.
My stomach dropped. “Package?”
Tag’s jaw tightened. “They mean you.”
The sound of boots hitting dirt came from every direction. I drew my sidearm, palms slick, scanning for movement. Tag shifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine, his voice low.
“They don’t want me. They don’t want Gideon or Faron. They want you breathing, Aponi. Which means Graves wants something only you can give him.”
I didn’t have time to process it before a flash of movement hit my periphery. A figure lunged out of the dark, grabbing for me, and Tag’s shot dropped him before his fingers could close around my wrist.
“Stay with me,” he said, and there was nothing calm about his voice now—only fire.
The gunfire surged again, a deadly chorus in the black. And I knew, with a certainty that turned my blood cold, that this wasn’t just an ambush.
It was a kidnapping attempt.
51
Tag
The dark was our enemy now.
Gunfire rattled from the ridge, ricocheting off metal and dirt, but it wasn’t meant to kill—it was meant to herd. I could feel it in the way the shots cut off every path but one, forcing us deeper into the yard.
“They’re funneling us,” I said into my radio.
