The shipping docks lay deserted under a blanket of fog, the only light coming from a single, flickering sodium lamp at the end of the pier. Lynn's breath plumed in front of her as she stepped onto damp planks, the turtle plush in her satchel. Lucian followed closely, hand hovering near the earpiece's mute button.
“Victor's men should be watching," Lucian murmured through the earpiece. “Stand by."
Lynn's heart pounded. Crates loomed like silent sentinels. At the far end, a black van idled with its sliding door open. Inside, Milo sat strapped in a car seat, eyes wide but brave, clutching his octopus toy. Two burly figures flanked the vehicle, weapons low but ready.
She swallowed. “I'm here," she whispered.
One mercenary drew a curved knife. “Hand over the patents and resign your claims,"
