“I don’t know,” he spat, voice cracking. “They—they were supposed to be here. They were here this morning.”
Bones’s eyes narrowed. “Past tense.”
I shoved him backwards into the container, letting the steel ring. “When did they move them?”
“Just—just before you showed up.”
Bones leaned forward, voice dropping into a register that could freeze blood. “How?”
“Vans,” the man whispered, voice shaking. “Two white vans. No plates.”
Bones released him. I did not. “Where were they heading?”
But he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Before I could argue with physics and drag answers out of him?—
Alphabet’s voice cut through sharply. “I’ve got something.”
Bones spun toward the open lane. “Talk.”
“I’m pulling traffic cam access along the perimeter. Two white panel vans exited the north checkpoint seven minutes ago.” So he’d meant before we found Nico. Prick.
My grip tightened on the hostile’s jacket. “Direction?”
“Eastbound. Toward the 110. They’re already off port property.”
That meant they were moving fast.
And we were behind.
Bones took a slow breath—the kind that meant someone was about to die—and then spoke, calm as a blade in deep water. Checking for hidden compartments or false walls, he walked the container in a swift sweep.
“Lunchbox. Secure him.”
My smile widened. “Gladly.”
The guy’s eyes went wide. Rightly so.
Bones didn’t wait—he started moving back toward Grace and Nico with that long, predator stride.
Alphabet spoke again, urgency sharpening. “Guys… if they’re on the 110, they’re heading toward the city. Sarmiento’s people don’t move cargo like that unless they’re spooked.”
“They’re spooked,” I muttered, shoving the hostile face-first against the steel and cuffing him with zip ties. “We rattled them.”
Bones answered, voice dark. “Good. Because we’re not done.”
I grabbed the hostile by the back of his collar and started dragging him toward the others. We needed answers and I was in the perfect mood to get some.
Chapter
Seventeen
GRACE
The air was sharp, diesel and salt and something bitter I didn’t want to name. Goblin padded at my side, low growl soft and protective, his little body pressed against Nico’s leg like he could somehow carry the weight of the world in fur.
Nico clutched the jacket around him like it was armor, eyes wide and hollow. I crouched down, careful not to smother him, and let him see my hands.
