“I won’t.” I whack at a moth with the tablet, then stifle a frustrated groan. “She’s going to break your heart, Henry, I’m telling you.”
“She might, but nothing hurts when you expect the unexpected. Thanks for the heads-up anyway. You’re the best.”
“I’d say you’re the worst, but you already know that. So dream of me shivering on the docks!”
His laughter resonates as the call disconnects and I slip my phone into the wide pockets on my sweater.
One glance at the black sea has my adrenaline spiking as the weight of reality sinks in. Unease wraps its unwelcome claws around me.
Somewhere nearby, metal chains clink softly against moored yachts, and the ocean carries that salty, storm-heavy scent that always seems stronger at night. The marina lights reflect across the dark water in broken streaks of gold.
“Seriously, I’m going to kill him,” I murmur under my breath, then fold my arms across my chest and keep walking,forcing myself not to focus on the cold or the eerie emptiness surrounding me.
I should be used to nights like these, with the swallowing darkness and uncomfortable quiet. But before tonight, I hardly ever got urgent inspection requests, and when I did, it was never a one-man job. A team of three to five is always deployed to handle stuff like this.
Tonight’s the first time I’m having to fly solo.
And, as much as I would rather not be doing this, I remind myself that I’m here for work, not to stand around shivering like an idiot. “A quick in and out,” I mutter under my breath for confidence.
But as another brutal gust tears through the dock, lifting my hair and stinging my skin, I can’t stop the chill that crawls down my spine.
The deeper I move into the marina, the more wrong everything feels. The night feels different, heavy with uncertainty. Aside from the sound of gentle waves crashing in the sea and the occasional squawks from pesky seagulls flying in the distance, the docks maintain an unnatural quiet.
To be honest, Miami never really sleeps, especially not around the water. Even at nighttime, the docks should still be alive, with the whispers of lovers hidden by the shadows, wandering tourists chatting under the moonlight, or...something.Anythingthat hints the existence of other people.
On plenty of other nights, we’ve heard heavy bass music drifting from somebody’s yacht party, drunken laughter echoing across the slips, crew members yelling over the sound of generators and clinking glasses.
But tonight, there’s nothing at all—no music, laughter, or even the slightest sign of chaos. Just the hollow groan of woodbeneath my sneakers and the endless slap of dark water against the docks.
Without meaning to, I slow my pace, tightening my grip around the tablet tucked against my chest. The yachts around me glow dimly beneath the scattered dock lights as another cold gust tears through my hair.
I glance over my shoulder instinctively, and my stomach twists at the creepy stretch of still shadows behind me.
“Great job, Henry,” I grumble under my breath.
I stop beneath one of the lampposts and wake the tablet screen again. The glow washes pale blue light across my face as I pull up the inspection details for the second time tonight.
Mona C-12.
I lift my eyes toward the numbers posted along the dock and begin counting carefully as I walk farther down the narrow pathway.
C-13.
C-14.
C-15.
Every step makes me more uneasy about being out here alone this late. I try to steady myself, to get my bravado back. I normally don’t scare this easily. After landing this job, I went through storms—literally—sketchy harbors, and enough arrogant yacht owners to kill my nerves permanently.
But I can’t ignore the nagging voice at the back of my head that’s whisperingturn back, Elena, over and over.
The wind dies suddenly, leaving behind an uncomfortable stillness that raises goosebumps along my arms. And that’s when I spot it.
C-17.
The massive black luxury yacht sits at the end of the dock.
It towers over the others like a monument swallowed by the night. Most of its exterior lights are off, leaving only a faintglow near the upper deck, a subtle indicator that the engines are warm. But I notice an instant red flag: its crew is absent.
