The midnight air at Pier 9 was thick with the suffocating stench of rotting wood, salt, and diesel fuel. The storm from earlier had passed, leaving behind a thick, low-hanging fog that rolled over the black water of the harbor, swallowing the abandoned shipping containers in a ghostly shroud.
Inside the darkened interior of a bulletproof SUV parked overlooking the pier, Clara sat silently. She was dressed in a dark tactical jacket, her clear blue eyes narrowed as she watched the harbor through the tinted glass. Beside her, the air was heavy with a cold, lethal focus. Adrian sat perfectly still, a heavy tactical submachine gun resting casually across his lap. His sharp, granite jaw was set, and his midnight eyes were locked onto the black water where the extraction boat was supposed to a
