the smuggler’s bible


They stop in a wide spot between dunes. Juliet can still hear the waves crashing, but they’re out of sight now.

“Wait. Set the gear up.” She checks her watch, then kneels beside the terminal and gets the cord in her hand, plug poised over socket like a raptor before the dive. “Rumble, listen—a lot could go wrong. Gimme five minutes and then bolt for deeper, darker forests.”

“What do I tell them,” he asks, “about the run—”

She slots the plug home—haywire. When she comes back up, there’s blood on the sand, and Rumble is gone.