Chapter 82 Shadows At The Dock

• The fog clung to the docks like a shroud, swallowing the glow of distant streetlamps and muffling the groan of cargo ships in the harbor.
• My boots sank into the gravel as Adam and I crept past rows of shipping containers, their rusted sides weeping with condensation.
• The air reeked of diesel and brine, the kind of stench that coated your tongue and lingered long after you’d left. Somewhere in the haze, a crane loomed, its jagged silhouette a skeletal giant watching us trespass.