The Interception
The bayou road was dark, slick with mist, the headlights of the truck cutting a narrow path through the black. Cypress trees hunched on either side, their limbs heavy with moss that dripped like veils.
Inside the cab, two of Roman’s men rode in silence. Both kept their eyes sharp, shoulders tense, their pistols resting close. They knew the drill—deliveries like this were always at risk.
The truck carried more than boxes. It carried hope. Cases of insulin, bottles of rare cancer treatments, sealed crates of antivirals—things that hospitals overcharged, that families wept over. Roman’s network would get them where they were needed.
But someone else had other plans.
Up ahead, on a stretch of the road where the trees pressed in too close, a set of headlights flickered. Th
