"It’s already done."
The car slows as the smooth asphalt of the highway gives way to the rough, potholed concrete of the industrial district. We bump and sway past the perimeter fence. The security checkpoint for Terminal 4 looms ahead, an island of floodlights in the darkness.
The guard spots the flag on my car, the Morozov crest, and waves us through without stopping. This is Blackwood territory on paper, but the men standing guard are mine. They answer to my coin, and my violence.
We pull up to the edge of the wharf.
The silence of the armored car is shattered the moment Lev opens the door.
The night is filled with the grinding of cranes, the shouting of dockworkers, and the deep, vibrating hum of ship engines. It’s the sound of money being made in the dark.
The Blackwood Star looms above us, a massive steel beast sitting low in the water, its hull scarred by years of salt.
"Open the door," I order.
Lev obeys, holding the door wide against the wind.
I shift Helena, dragging her out with me. Her legs give way immediately. She collapses, knees buckling, but I catch her before she hits the concrete.
I wrap my arm around her waist, clamping her to my side. I force her to stand, taking her entire weight against my hip. To anyone watching from a distance—the crew on the deck, the stevedores on the pier—it might look like a lover's embrace. A man supporting his drunk wife after a party.
But up close, it’s a cage.
Lev signals the foreman. The blood drains from his face the second our eyes meet. He drops his gaze instantly, terrified to make eye contact with the Boss.
I demand to be feared.
"Look," I command, grabbing her chin and forcing her face toward the ship.
"I can't," Her head lolls, eyes rolling back to show the whites. "Can't see..."
"Focus," I growl, giving her a little shake sharp enough to rattle her teeth. "Open your eyes. Watch what you bought."
She blinks, fighting to lift her heavy lids. She sways against me, her body soft, entirely dependent on my strength to keep her upright.
"See that?" I point to the crane lifting a massive, unmarked container. It swings through the air, casting a long, rectangular shadow over us before disappearing into the hold.
"The Atlantic Loop," I whisper, my lips brushing the sensitive skin below her earlobe. "Carrying enough illicit cargo to put us both in prison for a lifetime. Cash. Untraceable cash. The things that fuel empires."
She stares at it. She sees the ship. She sees the crew, my men, armed with assault rifles slung openly over their shoulders, locking down the hatches.
"You... monster," she slurs.
Her hand comes up, trying to claw at my face, but her coordination is gone. Her fingers brush my jaw, a ghost of a strike.
"Yes," I agree. "I am."
The ship's horn blasts.
The heavy mooring lines are cast off, splashing into the dark water. The Blackwood Star begins to drift away from the dock, churning the harbor water into white foam.
She watches it go. She watches her family's legitimate legacy turn into a criminal enterprise, sealed with her signature on the manifest.
And as the ship clears the harbor, the last of her fight evaporates.
She goes completely limp. Her head drops onto my chest, and her breathing evens out into the heavy sleep of the drugged.
"Done," I say to Lev. "She’s been seen. The crew knows she was here. If the Feds ever pull the surveillance tapes, she’s standing right next to me, watching the load."
