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.”
63
Adam
The SUV rolled to a stop two blocks from the clinic. The air was heavy with desert heat, the night pressing close, quiet in that way that set every instinct on edge.
Through the windshield, the building looked harmless enough—one story, brick faded to pale pink, a sun-bleached sign that readWESTSIDE FAMILY MEDICAL. No cars in the lot except a dusty sedan and a beat-up van with clinic plates.
Too clean. Too quiet.
I scanned the shadows, every muscle coiled tight. “This stinks.”
Hawk killed the engine and checked the mirrors. “No guards. No lights except reception. Either we’re lucky… or we’re walking into a setup.”
“Never been lucky,” Blade muttered, his knife already palmed.
Russ adjusted the earpiece we weren’t supposed to be using—local comms only, short range. “Heat signatures inside. Four, maybe five. Small staff for a place with this kind of supply trail.”
“Means the real work isn’t happening here,” I said. “This place funnels product out. Maybe holds until transport.”
I turned in my seat. Raine sat beside me, pale in the glow of the dash, but steady. Logan’s jaw was tight, his eyes flicking between her and me like he wanted to lock her in the SUV.
“This isn’t a spectator sport,” Logan growled.
“Good,” Raine shot back, voice low but firm. “Because I’m not here to spectate. Are you forgetting I was a Captain in the Air Force two months ago? I’m not a baby who needs her hand held.
I almost smiled—damn woman. But there was no time for it.
“Alright,” I said, pulling the suppressed Glock from its holster. The room stilled as I laid out the plan. “Hawk, Russ — entry point rear. Blade, you’re with me on the front. Logan, you stick close to Russ. Raine, you stay with me.”
Logan started to argue, but one look shut him up.
“We breach quiet,” I continued. “Sweep first floor, secure staff. Russ, you dig through their records. Hawk, find the supply inventory. Blade, you clear storage. If we find evidence, we tag it, photo it, move. No heroics. We are in and out.”
Blade tilted his head, voice like ice. “And if we find more than staff?”
My grip tightened on the Glock. “Then we burn it down.”
The SUV filled with silence. They all knew I wasn’t talking about fire.
