I scrambled through a tear in the rusted chain-link fence, my jacket snagging on a wire.

I ripped it free, leaving a piece of dark fabric behind.

I crouched in the tall, wet weeds of the marshy field beyond the fence.

Through the gaps in the shipping containers, I watched.

Mara stepped out of the driver’s side, her weapon raised.

“Federal Agent!” she shouted into the dark. “Drop your weapons!”

Two men in dark tactical gear stepped into the beam of her headlights.

They didn’t speak.

One of them raised a weapon—a heavy, suppressed rifle.

There was a muffled pop, and Mara’s gun flew from her hand.

She fell to her knees, clutching her wrist.

The second man closed the distance instantly, striking her across the temple with the butt of his weapon.

Mara collapsed onto the gravel.

They dragged her toward the SUV, her boots scraping uselessly in the dirt.

I pressed my hand over my mouth to stop myself from calling out.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

They didn’t search the area.