Page 91 of South of Justice

The boy nodded. “He’s the one who took me from the beach house. He said we were going to see my grandma.”

Ryan exhaled. He felt like he’d been punched in the guts. It was Reyes. Not Gates. Not the man Ryan had spent the last day cursing in his own head. Not the old friend he’d accused. Reyes had set this whole trap. He’d taken Lucía and had left the boy behind like a duffel bag he didn’t feel like carrying.

Ryan let his head fall back against the scorched wall, a hoarse laugh escaping his throat. It wasn’t funny. Not even close.

That sly little bastard.He’d been the asset the whole fucking time.

Lucía had no idea how long they’d been driving. There were no voices in the back with her. Just the hum of the engine, theoccasional static crackle of a comms radio up front, and the muted percussion of tires over pitted tarmac.

She pressed her cheek against the seat and tried to orient herself by sound. The tires had changed tone. Less crunch, more hum. Asphalt. They were still moving at speed. Still somewhere rural. She counted trees by the rhythm of shadow through the canvas. One-two. One-two. Sparse.

“Almost there,” someone muttered from the front seat.

A second voice. “She still out?”

“Who knows? She hasn’t said a word.”

“She’s got the code, right?”

“That’s what Reyes says.” They didn’t speak with fear. They spoke with confidence. Like she was a solved problem. Like the rest was just procedure. “They say it’s all in her head. Thatshe’sthe passphrase.”

Lucía let her head slump. But her mind was racing.

Reyes.The littlefederale?Hewas behind all this?

Bile burned the back of her throat. She forced it down.

It’s always the fucking quiet ones.

She heard the buzz of a cellphone beside her. The third man—the one closest to her—answered it immediately. She recognized Reyes voice. “Yes, sir?”

There was a pause, then Reyes said, “No, she’s intact. A little banged up, but breathing. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Another pause. Someone was speaking on the other end of the line. She strained to hear the voice coming through the speaker, but it was too faint.

“Yeah, she’s tougher than she looks. Tried to bite one of my guys. Nearly succeeded.” A dry chuckle.

Lucía’s fingers clenched. The zip ties bit deeper.

“Understood,” Reyes said. “We’ll be at the safehouse in five. Minimal exposure. No comms until then.”

Then: a click. The line went dead.

The SUV hit a pothole. Her head cracked softly against the seat frame behind her. She forced herself to stay calm. Think. Her legs were free. A mistake? Or intentional?

Maybe they didn’t see her as a threat. And maybe they were right.

Maybe she really was helpless.

The vehicle slowed. Turned. Gravel crunched under the wheels.

She braced herself. Outside, a gate groaned open. Chains rattled. The SUV drove through. Somewhere outside the canvas hood, a new sound rose: the sharp bark of a dog.

She could smell salt in the air again. Ocean. Not far from the coast, then. Not far from where it all began.

She curled her fingers slowly. Felt the blood moving back into her wrists. Every inch ached. But it was better than numbness.

Because pain meant she was alive. And as long as she was alive, so was the fight.