Nicholas
The signal from Noah’s tracker pulsed steadily on my handheld screen, guiding me through the rusted labyrinth of Pier 9. Outside, the storm raged, but inside the cavernous sugar refinery, the air was thick with the reek of damp rot, oxidized iron, and impending death.
I moved like a phantom up the secondary emergency stairwell, tactical pistol drawn, every nerve in my body tuned to a razor-sharp edge.
Then I heard Victor’s voice echoing from the high catwalk above: “You should have died saving him the first time.”
A terrifying, primal fury erupted in my chest.
I breached the heavy access door to the third-floor industrial platform just as lightning illuminated the rafters. Fifty feet away, Faith lay battered on the rusted metal grating, her dark hair wet, her face bruised. Vi
