"They were running." Declan's voice cut through the silence. Flat. Analytical. "The direction of travel suggests they came from the northeast, moving on foot. No supplies, no navigation equipment. They weren't crossing the border. They were fleeing something."
"Northeast puts their origin somewhere in the Montana-Idaho corridor," Nolan added from behind his tablet. His fingers were already moving. "I can cross-reference missing persons databases for unidentified Latino males in that region, but if these men were undocumented, they won't be in any system."
"They won't be." My voice came out harder than I intended. Every head turned. I didn't care. "Undocumented workers don't file missing persons reports. Their families back home don't know who to call. And whoever was holding them knows that. That's the point. They're invisible."
Hawk's eyes found mine. Held. He knew what I was seeing in those photographs.
"There's more." Tyler spoke from beside Tank, his voice carrying the careful precision of a man choosing his words for a room full of armed people who were already angry. "I got a call thirty minutes ago from a contact in Henderson PD. Someonephoned in an anonymous tip to the FBI's regional field office overnight, linking the Steel Phoenixes to the bodies."
The room detonated. Irish's hand slammed flat on the table. Ghost surged forward. Three voices overlapped in profanity and outrage that Hawk let run for exactly four seconds before raising one hand. The noise died.
"Someone is trying to frame us." Hawk's voice dropped low. The quieter he got, the more dangerous the situation. "Someone put bodies on our border and then called the feds to make sure we'd take the blame."
"Which means the bodies weren't dumped randomly." Declan again, already three moves ahead. "They were placed. Specifically, on our territory. Someone knows where our patrols run and timed the dump to ensure we'd find them."
"The Iron Wolves know our patrol patterns." Axel leaned forward. "They surveilled us before the Holt war. We've updated the system, but the core pattern is still there."
"Speculation." Hawk held up a hand. "But noted. Tyler, can you shut down the tip?"
"Already working on it. My contact at Henderson PD is sympathetic. He'll sit on it for a few days, give us time to investigate before the feds send anyone." Tyler's jaw tightened. "But if this reaches the FBI field office officially, we're looking at a formal investigation. And whoever called in the tip knows that."
"Then we work fast." Hawk swept the room. "Nolan, I want everything you can find on the brand mark. That H inside a circle is a logo, which means it belongs to someone. Find out who. Tyler, keep your contact warm and monitor the FBI channel. If this tip gets traction, I want to know before the suits do."
"What about the bodies?" Rosa interjected. "I can run more detailed forensics, but I need time and equipment. Some of theseinjuries suggest long-term captivity. If there are more people being held somewhere, the timeline matters."
"Do it." Hawk looked at me. "Blade."
"I want the eastern perimeter." I heard myself say it. "The bodies came from the northeast. I'll ride out, follow the trail back. See where they came from."
"Take Ghost. Two riders, minimal profile."
I nodded. My hand was still on the knife. I made myself let go.
Hawk straightened. His palms came off the table. The room waited.
"Five men are dead on our land. They were branded, starved, worked to destruction, and left in the desert like garbage. Then someone tried to pin it on us." His voice dropped into the register that meant war. "We are going to find out who did this. We are going to find out why. And when we do, we are going to make them wish they'd picked a different doorstep."
No one spoke. No one needed to.
"Dismissed."
The room emptied—Hawk first, then the officers, then the rank and file, the chairs scraping back in a wave from the head of the table outward. I stayed where I was. Back to the wall. Hand off the knife but the ghost of the grip still in my palm.
Irish paused at the door. Looked back at me. The grin was gone. What was underneath was sharp, serious, older than his years.
"You okay?"
"Fine."
"You're not fine. Not since the moment Rosa showed the photos." He leaned against the doorframe. Declan and Nolan moved past him, Declan's hand brushing Irish's shoulder as he went—gravity, not choice. "Talk to me,hermano."
"Not now."
Irish studied me for three seconds. He knew when to push and when to let a blade sit in its sheath. "I'm here. You know where to find me."
"I always know where to find you. You're the loudest person in any building."
The ghost of the grin flickered. "That's my charm." He pushed off the doorframe and followed Declan and Nolan down the corridor.
