The pier was where it ended, or where it would all begin.
Midnight clung to the old pier like a shroud, the fog so thick it felt like breathing damp gauze. Salty, decaying air filled my lungs, a stark contrast to the sterile, controlled atmosphere of the penthouse I’d left just an hour ago. I stood at the appointed spot, a decoy case heavy in my hand, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. The case was a beautiful piece of theater, polished silver and sleek lines, containing nothing but weighted foam. The real ship’s log was tucked away in a digital vault only Lysander could access.
“Remember, you’re a statue,” his voice, calm and absolute, had whispered through the nearly invisible comms unit in my ear just before I’d stepped out of the car. “You don’t move, you don’t speak unless spo
