"Trash like you doesn't belong behind a rig like this. You stole it, and you're busted." Deputy Ror slammed Immani Ree against the front grille of her own truck, twisting her arm hard enough to bruise as the dash cam vibrated above them. "Charity shipment," he sneered, eyeing the sealed trailer like it was already evidence. His partner stepped in close, cuffs snapping open beside her ear.
"Probably stuffed with something dirty." Gravel ground beneath her boots as his grip tightened. Meant to intimidate. Meant to degrade.
Ror leaned in, breath hot with certainty. He thought he was breaking a trucker. He had no idea he'd just laid hands on a former Delta Force commander trained to end threats exactly like him. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across Route 23 as Immani Ree guided her 18-wheeler through Pine Hollow County.
Her eyes scanned the road ahead, taking in the empty stretches between the sparse trees that gave the county its name. The sealed trailer behind her carried medical supplies bound for a veterans' charity two states over. The dash cam's tiny red light blinked steadily on her windshield, a quiet guardian recording every mile. Immani kept her speed exactly at the limit, hands at ten and two, maintaining the discipline that had become second nature long before she'd started driving trucks.
Blue and red lights exploded in her side mirror. Immani checked her speedometer again, though she already knew what it would show. The patrol car's lights strobed closer, and she eased her rig onto the gravel shoulder, positioning it carefully to keep the dash cam's view clear. Two deputies emerged from the patrol car.
The taller one swaggered toward her cab, hand resting casually on his belt. His partner circled wide, boots crunching on gravel as he positioned himself on her blind side. "Out of the truck!" the tall deputy barked before she could reach for her license. "Hands where we can see them."
Immani's fingers tightened slightly on the wheel. "Deputy Ror," she read from his nameplate, keeping her voice steady. "I have my documentation right here." "I said out."
Ror's face twisted. "Unless you want to explain where you stole this rig from." "Stolen?" Immani kept her tone neutral even as her mind cataloged details. No initial request for license, no statement of cause for the stop, no radio call-in of their location.
"You heard him," the second deputy, Brener, cut in. "Out now. Wrong county to be playing games after dark." It wasn't even close to dark yet.
Immani noted that too as she complied, movements deliberate and smooth. The gravel crunched under her boots as she stepped down. Ror grabbed her arm immediately, shoving her toward the side of the trailer. "Hands on the metal. Spread them."
Immani planted her feet, absorbing the push while scanning the empty road. No witnesses, no buildings, no cell-signal bars on her phone. This stretch of highway felt owned. Claimed territory rather than public road.
"Running awful nice equipment for a long haul," Brener said, circling closer. His hand kept drifting to his holster like he was hoping for an excuse. "Bet there's quite a story there." "The story's in my paperwork," Immani replied.
"Everything's in order." "We'll be the judge of that," Ror said. He started an exaggerated pat-down, hands lingering too long, movements designed to provoke and humiliate. "Awful mouthy for someone in your position."
Immani focused on her breathing as Brener blocked her view of the patrol car. The positioning wasn't random. They'd done this before. One to search, one to obstruct.
Working together to control what could be seen from the road. "Papers don't match," Ror announced, though he hadn't even looked at them. "Going to need to check that trailer." "It's sealed," Immani said.