The abandoned shipyard at Pier 40 smelled of decaying kelp, rusted iron, and the sharp, metallic tang of fear.

Clara Hayes was tied to a splintering wooden chair in the center of the cavernous warehouse, her wrists bound so tightly behind her back that her fingers had gone completely numb. A singl

The clatter of Sterling's gun hitting the concrete echoed like a gunshot itself.

For a split second, nobody moved. The three red laser dots remained perfectly fixed on Sterling's chest. The man was hyperventilating, his eyes darting frantically between Julian’s approaching figure and the impenetra

The warehouse was a tomb of silence, broken only by the ragged, wet sound of Julian Cross fighting for air. Clara Hayes knelt on the concrete, her hands slick with his blood, pressing desperately against the gunshot wound in his side.

"Julian, look at me," Clara ordered, her voice cracking but fie