The fear was still there, buried deep. But under it burned something sharper.
Resolve.
I turned my head just enough to look at Adam. He felt it, I knew he did, because his jaw flexed, his eyes softening for just a breath before turning back to steel.
Whatever Corpus Christi held, whatever waited for us—
I was ready.
101
Raine
The port smelled like rust and salt and diesel. Even from a mile out, I could hear the groan of cranes, the hiss of hydraulics, the endless shuffle of cargo containers stacked like tombs. Corpus Christi wasn’t sleeping—not tonight, not ever.
Adam cut the headlights before we hit the outer fence line. The SUV rolled to a stop under a cluster of palms swaying in the gulf wind. Hawk and Blade slid out first, shadows melting into shadows. Logan followed, scanning the perimeter with that jittery tension I was starting to recognize as his version of focus.
Adam’s hand closed over mine before I moved. The grip wasn’t hesitation—it was reminder.Stay with me.
I nodded once. My chest was tight, but not from fear. From clarity. I’d spent weeks letting the fear own me. Tonight, I owned it.
Boone muttered from the back seat, the glow of his laptop painting his face. “Got movement. Three reefers pulled from Dock Twelve in the last hour. No manifests filed. That’s your window.”
“Dock Twelve,” Adam repeated, his voice low steel. “Russ, mark it. Hawk, Blade, we intercept before they roll. Logan, you’re eyes on our flank. Raine—”
He turned to me then, his gaze hard enough to cut, but what I saw underneath wasn’t doubt. It was trust.
“You’re on me.”
I chambered a round, the click loud in the close air. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, just for a second. Then the soldier was back, and he was all command.
We moved. Boots on gravel. Gulf air hot and wet against my skin. The closer we got to Dock Twelve, the heavier it felt, like the weight of every soul they’d caged and sold still hung in the salt air.
Voices drifted ahead—Spanish, English, laughter too sharp to be anything but cruel. The trucks loomed in the dim floodlights, their trailers humming low with cold.
Adam raised his fist. The world went silent.
In that breathless pause, my ribs screamed, my muscles shook, but my grip never wavered. Because this wasn’t about fear anymore.
It was about doing right.
And I was ready to stand next to him.
102
Adam
The dock lights burned harsh against the gulf night, throwing long shadows over steel containers stacked high like a graveyard of secrets. I crouched low behind a forklift, Raine pressed at my side, her breath steady, her pistol already up.
“Three guards,” Hawk whispered into my radio. “Dockside. Two more by the cab.”
Blade’s voice cut in, low and sharp. “Easy kills.”
“Hold,” I ordered. My gaze swept the line of refrigerated trucks. Their trailers vibrated with the hum of cooling units. Boone had been right—human cargo.
Raine’s hand brushed mine, not trembling, not searching—anchoring. The steel in her eyes told me she wasn’t waiting for orders. She was here. My partner.
