The city cracked open around midnight.
Freight cranes froze like gallows against a bruised sky, sodium lamps humming over black water. On Emilia’s map, the junction looked like a simple red X. In person, it felt like a swallowed heartbeat-the place where things either passed cleanly through or stopped forever.
“Cameras?” she asked.
“Looped,” Nora replied, fingers dancing across her tablet. “Three-minute cycle. Long enough to hide a ghost, not long enough to hide a war.”
“Good.” Emilia nodded once. “Positions.”
They moved like they’d done this a hundred times: Nora to the catwalk; two of Emilia’s men tucked behind stacked containers; a silent driver idling in a nondescript van. The decoy pallet sat where Rafael had chosen-half in shadow, half under a light that flickered like a liar’s
