The night air at the port was heavy with salt and the faint tang of diesel. Cranes loomed against the horizon like giant skeletal sentinels, their long arms frozen mid-reach over the dark water. Cargo containers were stacked in chaotic towers, some painted in faded blues and reds, others bearing rust that streaked down their sides like tears. Damien stepped off the black SUV first, his boots hitting the concrete with a sound that cut through the hum of the harbor.
Amara followed, her eyes scanning the shadows. She wasn’t here as a passive observer—Damien had made that clear—but the tension in her muscles reminded her how far this was from any life she had once thought possible. This was the kind of place where people disappeared.
Odessa was supposed to be here. Yes,
Odessa, it isn't jus
