Nana moves quietly through the packhouse, her heart hammering in her chest. Every step feels too loud, and the creaking floorboards seem to betray her. She knows what she’s about to do is reckless—stupid even—but Lowell needs her help, and she can’t just sit back and let Marco’s men find him.
The storeroom is just ahead, where the guards keep their spare uniforms and supplies. She steals a look around, making sure that no one is there, before slipping inside the place. The room was dimly lit, smells like leather and sweat, Her movement is quick, fingers trembling as she picks up a set of clothes from the shelves.
She freezes just before she’s about to turn and walk away. Voices echo from the hallway.
“Patrol shifts are doubling tonight,” one voice says. “We need to find that bastard bef
