Donovan Fallon was mere inches away. His gray eyes pierced the thick shadows of the storage shed, searching for the source of the noise.
"Don, you have got to see this!"
Elias’s voice echoed loud and frantic from the pier outside.
Donovan paused. The intense, suffocating pressure radiating from his body hitched for a fraction of a second. He shifted his focus away from the dark corner and turned his head toward the open doorway.
In that exact microsecond, a blinding blue light flashed behind Sunny’s eyelids.
The smell of cedar vanished. The damp air of the shed disappeared. The terrifying presence of her fictional husband evaporated into thin air.
Sunny slammed hard onto her hands and knees. Sharp gravel bit viciously into her bare skin. She gasped, sucking in huge, greedy mouthfuls of salty ocean air. She blinked, her vision spinning. She was outside.
Her car idled just a few feet away, hidden safely behind a rusted warehouse building.
[Emergency Evasion Successful.]
Her entire body shook with violent tremors. A stray tear slid down her cheek, mixing with the dust on her face.
"Thank you," she whispered frantically to the empty air. "Thank you, System. I love you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me."
I almost died. Or worse, I almost made out with my fictional husband while robbing him blind. My heart cannot take this kind of stress.
I need a vacation before the apocalypse even starts.
A loud shout from the docks snapped her out of her panic. She was still way too close to Pier 4.
She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the stinging scrapes on her knees. She threw the driver’s side door open, slid into the plush leather seat, and slammed her foot on the gas pedal.
The tires spun on the gravel, kicking up dust before the car shot forward. She gripped the steering wheel tight, her knuckles turning white as she sped away, leaving the shipping yard far behind.
Back at Pier 4, Donovan stepped out of the dark storage shed. He frowned, brushing invisible dust off his tailored suit. He could have sworn someone was hiding in there. A ghost. A shadow. A phantom smelling of crushed vanilla and chaos.
He shook his head and walked over to the open shipping container.
Elias stood frozen in the doorway. His mouth hung wide open. He looked like a man who had just seen a ghost.
Donovan stopped beside him and stared into the dark space.
The massive steel box was bare. Not a single wooden crate remained. No rifles. No tactical gear. No explosives. Just an empty metal floor sweeping back into the darkness.
"What?" Elias choked out, his voice cracking. He stepped inside, his polished shoes echoing loudly against the bare steel. He spun around in a frantic circle, his eyes darting to every empty corner. "They were all here the last time I checked! I personally signed the manifest yesterday. Why is it empty now?"
Donovan’s jaw tightened. The veins in his neck popped.
He did not yell. He did not throw a tantrum. He just turned around, his face carved from pure ice.
"Check the CCTV," Donovan ordered softly.
The tone of his voice sent a chill straight down Elias’s spine.
Ten minutes later, they stood inside the cramped, stuffy security office of the shipping yard. The smell of burnt coffee and cheap donuts filled the small room. The head security guard sweated, his trembling fingers flying across the greasy keyboard.
"I swear, Mr. Fallon," the guard stammered, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve. "Nobody came through the main gate. No trucks. No forklifts. You cannot just move three tons of weapons without a forklift!"
"Play the footage from Pier 4," Donovan commanded, ignoring the man’s excuses.
The guard clicked the mouse. The black-and-white feed from the corner camera filled the monitor. It showed the steel container sitting undisturbed in the morning sun.
"Fast forward," Elias said, crossing his arms.
The timecode sped up. Nothing happened. The dockworkers moved around the edges of the frame, but no one approached the container. Then, a tiny flicker of static crossed the screen.
"Stop," Donovan said.
The guard scrambled to pause the video.
"Go back exactly five seconds. Play it frame by frame."
The video crawled backwards.
Click. Click. Click.
Donovan leaned over the guard’s shoulder. His gray eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He pointed a long finger at the bottom right corner of the screen, right where the shadow of a wooden pallet fell across the asphalt.
"Zoom in right there."
The guard typed a few commands. The image blew up, dissolving into grainy pixels. But the shape was undeniable.
It was the silhouette of a person.
Someone small. Someone fast. Someone slipping through the blind spot of the camera with terrifying precision. The figure darted into the container, and three minutes later, darted right back out. The figure carried no boxes. The figure pushed no carts.
So what was she using to move the stuff?
They were baffled.
"A woman again?!" Elias yelled, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Are you kidding me? A woman just carried three crates of explosives out of here in her pockets? How is that even physically possible?"
Donovan stared at the frozen image. The shape of the figure was familiar. Too familiar. The curve of her hips, the confident stride, the way she moved like a ghost through his life.
It was the exact same girl from the Viper’s Den. The same girl from the underground auction.
She was mocking him.
Donovan straightened up. The security guard whimpered and pressed himself flat against the back of his chair, wishing he could merge with the wall.
"Elias," Donovan said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Go to the Viper’s Den tonight," Donovan instructed. "Talk to the boss. Bribe his men. I do not care what you have to do. Look for someone for me."
Elias’s eyes lit up. He loved a hunt. He loved playing the spy. A massive grin broke across his face, replacing his previous panic. "Yes! Finally. We are going on the offensive."
Donovan turned toward the door, leaving the sweating security guard behind. He walked out into the bright sunlight, but his mood was darker than a starless night. He was going to find this thief, and he was going to make her explain exactly how she was doing this.
Elias jogged to catch up with him, pulling a small notepad and a silver pen from his jacket pocket.
"Give me all the information you know," Elias said, his voice buzzing with excitement.
Donovan stopped walking. He looked out over the crashing waves of the ocean.
"Red hair," Donovan said, his voice cold and precise. "A curvy slender figure, loves black and red."