Bones pivoted instantly. “Talk.”
“I found a ghost container.”
Voodoo stiffened. “Where?”
“Pier C,” Alphabet said. “Exactly where you thought. But that’s not the problem.”
Legend raised a brow. “Then what is?”
“The problem,” AB said, voice dropping, “is that whatever’s inside it… someone scrubbed the record eight hours ago. Completely. No ID. No contents. No weight. It’s a blank box.”
A chill slid down my arms.
“They’re hiding something big,” AB continued. “And whatever it is? It’s tied to Luis’s people. It’s sealed but not logged as empty. My bet? It’s holding something—or someone.”
Bones looked at the unconscious men, then at the duct-taped spotter, then out toward the port. My stomach twisted. He looked at each of us, one by one, silent but in that way of communicating.
“Then we’re not done,” he said finally. “Not even close.”We move smart. We move fast. We do not leave people behind.
Voodoo reached for my hand again—and this time I let him hold it.
I swallowed hard, pushing past the prickling fear at the edges of my ribs. “What… what do we do if we find people in that container?”
“If we find people in that container?” Legend echoed, voice low and sure.
His grin sharpened and he shot me a wink.
“We improvise.”
Chapter
Sixteen
LUNCHBOX
The second Bones gave the nod, we started moving. Not running—running gets you clocked. Just a steady, unbothered walk through the steel canyons of Pier C, the kind of pace every dock worker here adopted once they realized time was a suggestion and forklift drivers were gods.
I had point, mostly because people tended to step out of my way without realizing they’d done it. For Bones, they crossed the street, but for me, they just shifted aside and accepted my easy smiles without a second thought.
The air tasted like diesel, old salt, and the coppery edge of trouble. Goblin padded at Grace’s heel behind me, his little claws clicking a warning to anyone who got within sniffing distance.
Alphabet’s voice came through the comms, sharp and focused. “Container is C7–B block. Southwest corner tower. Third row from the bottom.”
“Copy,” I murmured, dodging a forklift with a wave I didn’t mean. “Any cameras we gotta duck?”
“I would have said two. Both old. Both dumb. But they annoyed me, so you’re good.”
Good. I liked being good.
Voodoo stayed near Grace, not touching her, but hovering with what had become our brand of casual protectiveness that meant he’d murder someone with a smile if the situation called for it. Bones watched everything—angles, shadows, the rhythm of the port like he could hear danger breathing.
I kept eyes ahead. My job wasn’t to worry. It was to move.
And crack skulls when necessary.
We slipped between two container stacks, the air cooler in the shade. I traced the faded stenciling on the metal as we passed—serial numbers, destination codes, layers of history that meant nothing and everything.
“Alphabet,” I muttered, “we aiming for cargo or cover?”
