"Charity shipment. Medical supplies." "That what you're calling it?" Brener's laugh had an ugly edge. "Could be anything in there. Could be you're running something else entirely."
Immani watched Ror circle the trailer, paying special attention to the seal. His eyes had the hungry look of someone who'd already decided what he was going to find. This wasn't a traffic stop. It was a hunting pattern.
Fish for an excuse. Plant evidence if needed. Split the proceeds later. "Awful lot of freight traffic through our county lately," Ror said, pulling something from his back pocket.
The metal gleamed. Seal cutters. "Awful lot of problems, too. But we keep things clean here, right, Brener?"
"Yes, sir, we do." Brener shifted his stance, thumb tapping his radio without keying it. No call-ins, no record, no witnesses. The sun hung lower now, stretching their shadows across the gravel.
Immani's calm finally crystallized into something harder as Ror approached the seal, cutters raised and a smirk playing across his face. She had read this situation like terrain from the first moment. The angles, the isolation, the practiced movements of predators who thought their badges made them untouchable. They had no idea they'd just cornered someone who'd spent years teaching others how to dismantle the untouchable.
Metal screeched against metal as Ror worked the cutters against the trailer's seal. Brener's fingers dug into Immani's arm, trying to force her still. The deputy's grip was tight enough to bruise, but his stance was sloppy. All show, no substance.
"You're going to regret making this difficult," Brener hissed in her ear. His other hand rested on his holster, thumb flicking the retention strap. "Should have just played nice." Immani took a slow breath, measuring distances.
The cab door hung open at just the right angle. Brener's weight was too far forward. Ror had turned his back completely, focused on breaking the seal. Amateur mistakes.
She moved in one fluid motion. She dropped her shoulder, twisted her wrist through the gap in Brener's grip, and used his own forward momentum to pivot him straight into the door frame. His head snapped back with a hollow thunk. Before he could recover, she had his arm locked behind him, leveraging his weight against the truck's cab.
"What the—?" Ror spun at the sound, dropping the cutters. His hand went for his weapon. Immani was faster.
She kicked Brener's legs out, dropping him face-first into the gravel, and rolled sideways as Ror charged. His wild grab met empty air. She caught his extended arm, redirected his momentum, and drove him down beside his partner. The move was pure physics.
No punches thrown, just precise application of force and leverage. "Don't move," she said quietly, one knee pressed into Ror's back. Her hand slipped into her boot, retrieving a hidden handcuff key she'd carried since her commanding days. Old habits died hard.
"You're out of your mind!" Ror's curse cut off in a grunt as she secured his wrists with his own cuffs. "Assaulting officers," Brener wheezed, still kissing gravel. "You're done. You're so done."
Immani secured him just as efficiently, then reached through her cab window and triggered her dash cam's secondary audio recording. "Let's talk about why you really stopped me." "You attacked us," Ror said, twisting against the cuffs. "That's assault."