Chapter 99
Adam
The hum of the engine filled the SUV, steady as a heartbeat. Outside, the Texas sun was sinking, bleeding the sky in shades of fire. We had hours—maybe less—before the bastards regrouped, before they moved their operation again.
I wasn’t about to give them that chance.
I leaned over Russ’s notes spread across the dash. Names. Routes. Timetables. All pieces of a machine designed to grind human lives into parts.
“We hit Corpus Christi next,” I said flatly. “Boone, I want eyes on every shipment that’s moved through the port in the last month. Refrigerated trucks, containers, cargo manifests—if it moves cold, I want it flagged.”
Boone muttered, fingers flying over his laptop keys. “You realize you’re asking me to hack half the damn coast guard, right?”
“Do it anyway.”
He huffed smoke out the window. “Already on it.”
I turned to Russ. “Cross-reference his pulls with the shell companies. Find me overlap. Anything that ties Corpus to San Antonio.”
Russ nodded, already scribbling.
“Hawk, Blade—you’ll run point with me. Logan, you back us up and keep your head on straight.”
Logan bristled but didn’t argue. Progress.
I finally looked at Raine. She sat steady, her pistol balanced across her lap, eyes sharp. The soldier in her was back full force, but there was more—fire, resolve, the kind that didn’t break.
“You stay glued to me,” I said, voice low. “No matter what. Understood?”
Her chin lifted. “Understood.”
Hawk smirked. “What about me, boss? Don’t get a personal vow of devotion?”
“Shut up and check your mags,” I snapped.
Blade actually chuckled, low and sharp, before twirling his knife again.
For a beat, the SUV was silent except for Boone’s keys clacking and Russ’s pen scratching. Plans forming. Targets narrowing. The war machine moving forward—ours against theirs.
I looked out the window at the horizon, my jaw tight, my blood hot.
They thought they could erase the ridge. They thought they could use lives like currency. They thought we’d back off once we saw the scope.
They were wrong.
This wasn’t about playing defense anymore.
This was about fire.
And Adam Stoker didn’t miss when he pulled the trigger.