And I?
I was doing my best not to show that my knees felt like someone had swapped them for wet cardboard.
“We move,” Bones said. No raise in volume. No worry. Just a simple declaration everyone obeyed—even me. We all fell into step as soon as he finished the second syllable. Well, Spotter McSpotterson didn’t. Not on purpose, anyway. Bones jerked him forward by the arm and his feet scrambled to follow.
“Grace,” Bones added, “with me.”
There was no room for argument. Not from him, not from me. I kept my hand on Goblin’s harness and followed as they cut us off the boardwalk and down a narrow maintenance path that ran between the admin building and a long line of recycling dumpsters. The tourists faded behind us, swallowed by distance and the roar of the cranes.
My pulse thudded in my throat.
Voodoo dropped back just long enough to brush his fingers against mine—a single second, quick, grounding, before he passed in front of me again to take point.
“Eyes up,” Legend murmured from behind. “Grace, don’t look at the ground. Watch shadows. Corners. Head on a swivel.”
“I wished that helped more,” I whispered.
“Not trying to help,” he replied, all teeth. “Trying to keep you alive.”
Fair.
Bones hauled the spotter down the side path with the efficiency of someone dragging a bag of laundry, except this bag was sweating and breathing fast and trying really hard not to stumble. The guy didn’t seem like he was a fighter—not a real one. He was wiry, jittery, dangerous in the way of someone who carried a gun he didn’t really know how to use. His eyes flicked everywhere except at us, and I saw the moment he realized he wasn’t getting rescued by whatever team he’d hoped was nearby.
“Please,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t understand?—”
Legend snorted. “Buddy,wedon’t understand? You tried to report her.”
His head snapped toward me, desperation flaring. “I didn’t—I wasn’t?—”
“Save it,” Voodoo said. Calm. Cold. “Where we’re going? Talking is optional.”
I swallowed.Myvoice would’ve shaken too if I tried to speak, so I didn’t.
Bones finally slowed as we reached the back edge of the admin building where a chain-link gate stood half-obscured behind a dumpster and a maintenance truck. A faded sign hung crooked on the fence:
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY – UTILITY ACCESS
Voodoo popped the lock like it was an inconvenience more than an obstacle and shoved the gate open. Bones guided the spotter inside, then glanced at me.
“Grace. In.”
I stepped past the dumpster wall and entered a narrow gravel alley that ran between two electrical sheds—the kind of place no tourist would wander, no worker would bother checking unless a circuit blew.
Goblin stayed glued to my knee, alert, tail stiff.
Once we were all inside, Voodoo closed the gate behind us and tucked the busted lock back into place to make itlookshut.
Bones pushed the spotter to his knees on the gravel. Not hard. Not gentle. Just unavoidable.
The man winced. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t going to hurt anyone?—”
“You were going to talk into that radio,” Bones said, crouching eye-level. “That’s enough.”
The spotter swallowed and stared at the ground. Sweat dripped from his temple even though the wind was cold.
Voodoo stood on the other side of him, camera bag slung across his chest, eyes sharp and bright in that unnerving way he got when he was running all the possibilities. “Grace,” he said gently, “you okay?”
I wanted to sayyes. I wanted it to sound steady.
