Page 70 of Tater
“Yeah,” she agreed. “He would.”
She wrapped the chain once around her wrist, tucking the loose end into her sleeve.
If they caught her, they’d have to take it off her cold dead body.
A sound.
Not loud, but wrong.
Ren froze, head tilting.
A truck door, maybe half a mile off. Metal squeak. Voices low and careful.
She moved to the edge of the station wall and peered through a broken pane.
Two black SUVs parked by the grain silos. Men in gray jackets stood near the tailgates, one holding a clipboard, another speaking into a radio. Not Hades Hellhounds—too clean. Too calm.
Cartel.
Her pulse steadied. She counted heads. Five outside. Maybe more inside the lead truck.
They weren’t unloading; they were staging. A midpoint between shipments. Golden gate wasn’t a place—it was a route stop. The town wasn’t abandoned; it was owned.
Ren crouched, slid her knife from her boot, and took a long breath.
“You cannot face them all,”the dragon warned.
“I don’t need to,” she whispered. “I just need their map.”
She moved like smoke—low, patient, her boots silent in the dust. The men’s voices carried easy in the dry air.
“…next load by noon,” one said. “Runner from Boise delayed, bridge went up. Orders are to reroute south.”
The other man cursed softly. “That’s the third one this week. Someone’s bleeding our supply lines.”
Ren smiled to herself. Good.
She waited until they turned toward the second SUV, then slipped behind the first. The back door was cracked open; clipboard left on the seat. She slid it free, eyes scanning fast—codes, coordinates, shipping lanes. And at the bottom, two words circled in red: GOLDEN GATE TRANSFER — LIVE HAUL.
Her stomach tightened. “Live.”
Not weapons. Not cargo.
People.
She folded the sheet, shoved it under her jacket. The dragon’s breath warmed her chest.”Now we burn them.”
“Not yet,” she said.
The crunch of boots behind her.
Ren spun. A man stood ten feet away, hand halfway to the pistol on his belt. His eyes widened when he saw her face. Recognition flickered there—he’d seen her photo somewhere.
He opened his mouth to shout.
She was faster.
The knife flashed once, quick, and clean she cut his throat, and he dropped without a sound.
