Chapter 3: The Shadow on the Waterfront
The damp chill of the harbor air hit Maya like an electric shock. Rain poured over the city skyline, washing away the smell of hospital bleach from her skin. She had three dollars in change and a prepaid transit card Dr. Vance had pressed into her palm.
She found shelter beneath the rusted awning of an abandoned shipyard warehouse on the docks. Shivering, she pulled out the torn paper. Beneath the legal text was a tiny, faint line Arthur had scribbled in shorthand—a code they used to play with when she was a child.
Pier 14. Locker 88. Ask for the Watchmaker.
Her father had known his life was in danger. Arthur Sterling was not an ordinary businessman; he was a biochemist whose recent discovery—an affordable synthetic insulin formula—threatened billions in revenue for Eleanor’s family syndicate. If Eleanor gained control of Sterling BioTech, the patent would be buried forever, keeping prices sky-high for millions of patients.
Suddenly, tires screeched against wet gravel. Headlights sliced through the rain, illuminating the warehouse pillars. Maya ducked behind a stack of rotting wooden pallets, holding her breath until her lungs burned.
Two men stepped out of a black SUV, holding flashlights and umbrellas.
May you like
"She couldn't have gone far on foot," one of them spoke into a radio. "Check the perimeter. Mrs. Sterling wants the girl secured before the morning press briefing. If she resists, use the tranquilizer."
Maya crawled through the mud on her elbows, ignoring the throbbing pain in her healing arm, and slipped into the storm drain leading toward the old docks.
