Chapter 62
Raine
The SUV’s tires hummed against the highway, the world outside a blur of desert and dusk. El Paso was still an hour away, but every mile dragged like we were driving straight into the jaws of something too big to name.
Adam sat beside me in the back seat, broad shoulders tense, one hand resting on his thigh, the other draped casually near mine. He looked calm to anyone else, but I could feel the storm under his skin. His silence wasn’t peace—it was calculation.
Hawk drove, steady hands on the wheel, eyes scanning the horizon like he expected trouble on the open road.
Russ rode shotgun, flipping through a thin folder of notes and photos, his calm voice occasionally breaking the silence to murmur details.
Blade sat directly behind me, too quiet, the metallic rasp of his knife against a whetstone a steady rhythm in the dark.
Logan took the last seat, arms folded, staring out the window, his jaw tight.
I shifted, the seatbelt cutting into my ribs, and tried to ignore the pounding in my chest.
“You okay?” Adam’s low voice brushed against my ear.
“Define okay,” I whispered back.
His mouth curved faintly, though his eyes stayed sharp. “Breathing. Not bolting.”
I exhaled slowly. “Then I guess I’m okay.”
The SUV fell quiet again except for Hawk’s voice breaking in. “Clinic’s off the main drag. Looks small, under the radar. But Russ says their shipments don’t match their footprint. Too many supplies. Too much refrigeration.”
Russ added, calm as ever, “Which means they’re moving product somewhere else. Clinic’s just a front.”
“Or a funnel,” Logan muttered.
Adam’s hand brushed mine, grounding me. “We’ll know soon enough.”
The desert rolled by, shadows stretching long across the sand. The closer we got, the heavier the air seemed to grow. My fingers itched against my thigh, not from fear—but from anticipation.
I thought of the boy’s words, the horror in his eyes when he spoke of doctors and organs. My stomach turned, but steel slid through me too. If this clinic had anything to do with that nightmare, we were going to shut it down.
I turned, caught Adam watching me, his eyes storm-dark but steady.
“Together,” I whispered.
He nodded once, his hand closing over mine. “Together.”
The SUV crested the last rise. In the distance, the glow of El Paso spread against the darkening sky. And tucked off the highway, quiet and unassuming, a squat building with a faded sign came into view.
Russ closed the folder. Hawk slowed the vehicle.
Adam’s voice cut the silence, low and commanding.
“Gear up. We go in clean.”