Lucas raises a hand.
“Hold.”
Everyone drops into cover automatically.
The civilians collapse where they can while Clay and Miles secure the ridge.
Nobody talks at first.
I crouch near the edge of the canyon studying the ground instead.
Tire tracks cut deep through the dirt.
Eastbound.
Fast.
Sloppy in places.
Good.
Means they were rushing.
“Talk to me,” Lucas says quietly behind me.
I don’t answer immediately.
My attention stays fixed on the tracks.
Patterns.
Weight distribution.
Direction.
Everything they left behind without realizing it.
“They headed east.”
Miles frowns. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
I finally glance up at him.
“Because they think we’ll expect west.”
Silence follows that.
Then Clay mutters quietly, “Trap.”
“Yeah.”
Lucas moves closer beside me. “You think they’re waiting for us?”
I look back toward the canyon horizon.
