The battered yellow commercial taxi ground to a halt, its screeching brakes throwing Elena forward against the worn vinyl of the front seat. Outside the water-streaked window, the world was a desolate canvas of industrial decay, swallowed entirely by the midnight deluge and a thick, toxic Atlantic fog.
"This is Pier 14, lady," the driver muttered, his voice taut with unease as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. He looked at her shivering, mud-splattered frame and the raw, bleeding cuts across her palms. "I don't know what kind of business you have out here at midnight, but this place is a ghost town. I'm not waiting around."
"I don't need you to," Elena whispered, her throat dry and raw.
She pushed open the heavy door, stepping directly into a massive, ankle-deep puddle of freezin
