Page 50 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

The security team’s smiles fade as they realize they’re not only surrounded, but there are arrows and guns pointed at each of them.

“This is sovereign tribal land,” Joseph says calmly. “You have no authority here. No jurisdiction. And no chance of taking anyone against their will.”

The leader’s hand twitches toward his weapon. “We have federal backing—”

“You have greed.” Joseph’s voice carries the weight of centuries. “And dishonor. The spirits do not look kindly upon such things.”

A strange wind whips through the canyon, carrying the scent of sage and something older, wilder. The petroglyphs seem to ripple in the changing light.

“Last chance,” Maya says softly. “Leave. Or find out exactly how sacred this ground really is.”

The corporate security leader’s hand tightens on his weapon, calculating odds. He knows his team has the advantage of firepower, but they’re surrounded and on unfamiliar terrain. I recognize the look of a man weighing victory against survival—I’ve seen it countless times across the sand of the arena.

“This isn’t over,” he says, voice pitched for his team alone, but my gladiator’s hearing catches every word. “Alpha team, maintain positions. Beta, fall back to vehicles. We’re regrouping, not retreating.”

Joseph steps forward, his weathered hand raised in warning. “You mistake our patience for weakness. This land has known predators before. It has ways of protecting its own.”

Around us, tribal members move with practiced precision, arrows knocked but not yet aimed. No aggression, only absolute readiness. One of the security team—younger than the others, less hardened—shifts nervously. The leader notices, his calculation changing as he realizes his team’s resolve might fracture.

For a moment, violence hangs in the air like lightning about to strike. Then the leader signals his men. The security team retreats slowly to their vehicles, weapons still ready but confidence shaken.

“This isn’t over,” the leader warns.

“No,” Joseph agrees. “But today’s battle is.” He turns to Sarah and quietly adds, “Begin the plan we discussed.”

At his words, tribal members move with practiced efficiency. They proceed to the north, I assume to the vehicles the tribal members arrived in.

“We have maybe thirty minutes before those men regroup,” Sarah explains, leading us toward a battered van. “They’ll set up surveillance on all the main roads, but we have ways they don’t know about.”

“The old trails,” Joseph adds. “Paths that remember feet walking on them long before roads existed. We’ll split up, use multiple vehicles, different routes. Make it impossible for them to know which to follow.”

“The three of you are with me,” Sarah continues as she looks up at the narrow sliver of sky above us. “When we emerge from this box canyon, the watchers will have no idea which car or cars you’re in.”

The plan unfolds with the precision of good planning. Maya’s hand finds mine for one brief squeeze. Her eyes speak so eloquently we don’t need words—we’re a team now, we can do this, I care about you.

Multiple vehicles depart in different directions, dust trails marking their passage across the landscape. Our enemies won’t know which carries precious cargo and which serves as distraction. No matter how many eyes may be tracking us, there are too many trails for pursuit.

Hours pass as we travel routes that barely qualify as paths. Sarah navigates by landmarks I can’t even see, her confidence never wavering. Finally, as sunset approaches, we arrive at a point far from where we began.

“The corporate teams are still searching the main roads,” Running Bear calls to report with quiet satisfaction. “Their machines cannot find what the land chooses to hide.”

Maya turns to her father, her palm face up. “The evidence.”

“Everything’s here on this flash drive.” He digs into his sock and then holds up a small device. “Their attempts to breach the sanctuary, the illegal surveillance, the bribes to local officials. I just… I couldn’t…” He looks at her with tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t let them hurt you, baby. Not for my mistakes. Not again.”

Maya’s expression is complex as she pauses. Finally, she says, “This doesn’t fix everything, Dad. Not by a long shot.”

She looks at her father—really looks at him, perhaps seeing him clearly for the first time. “No more running. No more schemes. You help us end this, or you’re on your own.”

“I promise, baby.” For once, his usual nervous energy stills. “I choose truth this time.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Maya

Before I slide into the driver’s seat, prepared to drive off the vast reservation, I look in the back of the vehicle. It’s filled with supplies—food, water, emergency gear, and small pouches of sacred herbs that Sarah insists we’ll need.

“The old ones will watch over you. They favor you.”

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