Lunchbox.
Voodoo’s hands on me. My breath shook once and they noticed.
“Hey.” His voice dropped, soft as a secret. “You’re here. You’re with us.”
I nodded. It wasn’t a strong nod. It was enough.
Bones didn’t interrupt. He just scanned the perimeter, jaw tight like he’d fight the whole pier himself if I needed thirty extra seconds.
“Guys,” AB said suddenly, sharp and urgent, “you need to move deeper. They found the radio. They know the spotter’s missing.”
Bones straightened. Voodoo released me but stayed close.
We weren’t done.
Not safe.
Not yet.
But we had the spotter.
We had two of his backup team.
And we were still standing.
That meant we were ahead.
For now.
Bones jerked his chin toward the darker stretch between container stacks. “We move. Keep it tight. Grace, you stay between me and Voodoo. Lunchbox, rear.”
I wiped my palms on my jeans, exhaled once, and stepped back into formation.
Goblin nudged my hand with his nose.
Voodoo brushed my shoulder with his fingertips.
Bones checked the next corner for movement.
Then we moved deeper into the container maze, following AB’s instructions. We navigated through a world carved into narrow steel canyons. Colors blurred—faded blues, chipped reds, shipping logos half-peeled. Goblin’s nails clicked on the concrete, the only sound besides our controlled breathing.
Bones didn’t stop until we reached an alcove formed by three containers pressed tight and a fourth pulled half a foot off its frame. A hidden square of shadow. No camera lines. No foot traffic. No workers.
“This,” Bones said, sweeping the area with a glance, “will do.”
Legend dropped the unconscious men beside the far wall, then propped them in positions that looked almost casual—likethey’d fallen asleep on the job. He checked their pulses, quick and efficient.
“They’ll be out a while,” he reported. “One’s gonna have a headache the size of Miami, but he’ll live.”
Voodoo set the spotter on a crate in the center of the space. The guy stumbled, blindfold still on, breathing sharp.
I stayed near the entrance with Goblin while Bones secured the perimeter—checking angles, shadow lines, reflective metal, anything that could give us away. After thirty seconds, he nodded once.
“Secure.”
As secure as a port filled with cartel watchers could be I supposed. Fortunately, I’d wager my guys against theirs every day of the week.
Legend tugged the blindfold off the spotter’s head. The man blinked wildly at the sudden light, eyes darting between us, landing on me last.
