Chapter 58 Adam
Adam
We crowded into the back of the motel’s dingy conference room, the kind meant for church socials or business luncheons, not battle strategy. The table was scarred wood, the chairs wobbled, and the fluorescent light overhead buzzed like a fly. But it was private, and right now, privacy was currency.
Russ spread out the files he’d pulled together.
Maps, dispatch logs, scraps of intel. Hawk leaned close, his good hand tapping rhythm on the table.
Blade stayed silent, sharpening his knife with slow, steady strokes that set my nerves on edge but steadied his.
Logan stood at the far end, hands braced on the chair back, his badge still clipped to his belt like a challenge.
“Alright,” I said, my voice cutting through the buzz. “We don’t have time for bureaucracy. We don’t wait for the Rangers to find answers—they won’t. This operation is too clean. Too protected.”
Russ slid a map across the table. “Routes in and out of the ridge. Vans came north from the border. No cartel markings, but the tires were military grade. Imports. Not standard issue here.”
Hawk grunted. “Means they’ve got funding.”
“Funding and clearance,” Logan added. His voice was low, steady. “I can dig into purchase records. But if this runs through contractors, the paperwork won’t be on any open server. It’ll be buried under fake shell companies.”
All eyes cut to him. He held the weight of it, didn’t back down.
“Do it,” I said finally. “But you don’t breathe a word to your department. Not one. This leaks, we’re finished.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded.
Russ pulled another sheet forward, this one filled with numbers. “Medical supplies. Invoices routed through a clinic out of El Paso. On paper, it’s small—two doctors, one nurse. But their shipments don’t match their size. Too much saline. Too many refrigeration units.”
My gut went cold. Refrigeration. Storage. Preservation.
“Organs,” I muttered.
Blade looked up for the first time, his eyes flat. “That’s your lead.”
The room fell quiet.
I let the silence stretch, weighing the risk, feeling every set of eyes on me. My men were battered. My woman was bruised. And I’d be damned if I let this ghost operation vanish into the dark again.
“We hit the clinic,” I said, my voice sharp. “Quiet. Fast. No comms, no paper trail. We find out who’s funding them, who’s moving product, and where the bodies from that ridge went.”
Hawk leaned back, a grim smile tugging at his mouth. “About damn time.”
Russ just nodded, steady as always. Blade slid the knife into its sheath. Logan shifted, like the weight of belonging finally settled on his shoulders.
I looked at each of them, my voice low but final.
“This isn’t recon anymore. This is war. And we strike first.”