Aurora’s POV
The morning air smelled of cold salt and car exhaust.
By six o’clock, my diner shift was over. I had eight dollars in my pocket and dry bread at home. I was tired, but I walked straight to the harbor to pack fish so I could buy food for the twins' birthday tonight.
As I turned the corner, loud shouting broke the quiet morning.
A crowd of dockworkers stood outside the gate, shouting in anger.
The iron gates of the docks were chained shut. Three shiny black cars sat in front, and four tall men in dark suits blocked the entrance.
Above them, the old sign was gone. In its place, a new silver sign made my feet freeze to the road.
It showed a roaring lion on a rock, with big letters underneath:
BROOKS LOGISTICS.
For twenty years, that silver lion was on the gates of the hou
