The bass from the speakers below thumped through the heavy wooden planks of the upper pier stairwell, sending steady vibrations straight up through the soles of Elara’s boots. Down at the riverbank, the bonfire roared like an open furnace, throwing long, erratic shadows across the rusted shipping containers and painting the surface of the dark river in shimmering shades of copper and gold.
Step by quiet step, Elara climbed higher into the darkness, completely vanishing into the blind spots of the dock’s upper architecture.
Her heart beat with a slow, mechanical rhythm. Every instinct she had cultivated over four grueling years of training was locked into singular focus. Down below, the Black Mambas were eating, laughing, and drinking.
Hello Miss Elara. Miss Cleopatra asked you to come b
