The docks were eerily quiet when we arrived, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The only sounds were the faint lap of water against the wooden pilings and the distant hum of a ship’s engine. Vito was behind the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror
As we rolled up to the rendezvous point, I spotted them—Marshall’s men. A rough-looking group, already in position and waiting, their postures screaming hostility. Their faces were hard, eyes narrowed, fingers twitching near their weapons. They weren’t here to talk; they were here to send a message.
“Stay close,” I muttered to Grace as I stepped out of the car, pulling her along with me. My pulse was already quickening, a mi
