The abandoned shipping port looked exactly the way I remembered. Rust covered the massive cargo cranes, stacks of weathered containers stretched across the docks and broken security lights flickered weakly against the dark water while abandoned warehouses disappeared into the night.
As a kid I had visited this place twice with Vincent. Back then I thought it was nothing more than another business. Now I knew better. The port had always been part of something much darker.
Devil’s Hollow stopped nearly half a mile away as motorcycles remained hidden beneath old storage sheds while trucks disappeared beneath torn camouflage nets.
Nobody spoke loudly or slammed doors and even Torch somehow stayed quiet.
Roman spread an old map across the hood of a pickup truck.
“You know this place?
