The Brooklyn waterfront reeked of salt and diesel, the night wind cutting through Marcus's jacket like a knife. He parked the Impala behind a rusted crane, its metal frame creaking in the gusts. Claire sat beside him, her dad's notebook open on her lap—pages marked with dock maps and Chen's known smuggling routes. Raymond leaned against the car, his hands in his pockets, while Sophia checked her switchblade, the metal glinting in the moonlight.
"It's 2:30," Marcus said, checking his watch. "Chen's shipment was supposed to leave at 3. He's running late."
Sophia nodded, her eyes scanning the docks. "Too quiet. He's waiting for us. Ambush."
Before Marcus could reply, a gunshot rang out. A bullet hit the car's windshield, spiderwebbing the glass.
"Down!" Raymond yelled, pulling Marcus and Claire behind the crane.
Chen's men poured out from between shipping containers—five of them, all with guns. Sophia sprinted forward, her switchblade flashing. She tackled one man, slamming his head into a metal crate.
"Claire, go for the boat!" Marcus yelled, pointing to a small speedboat bobbing at the pier. "Chen's gonna escape on it!"
Claire nodded, pulling a flashlight from her purse. She ran toward the pier, her dad's notebook tucked under her arm. Marcus followed, but a man blocked his path, swinging a pipe. Marcus dodged, grabbing a rope from the ground and wrapping it around the man's legs. He tripped, and Marcus kicked his gun away.
Raymond joined the fight, his pocket knife in hand. He grappled with another man, their fists connecting with metal crates. "Chen's on the boat!" he yelled. "Hurry!"
Marcus sprinted to the pier. Claire was already there, trying to untie the boat's rope. Chen stood at the wheel, a gun pointed at her.
"Step back, Marcus," Chen said, his foot tapping the boat's floor—bluffing. "Or she gets it."
Marcus froze. He thought of Claire's dad, of the promise he'd made to get justice. He thought of the fake chip in his pocket—still rigged with a GPS tracker.
"Let her go," Marcus said. "You're surrounded. Miller's FBI team is five minutes out."
Chen laughed, but his foot tapped faster. "Liar. You think I didn't check? Miller's busy with my decoy in Queens."
Cole ran onto the pier, his face pale. "Chen, stop! Mia's safe. The FBI's protecting her. You can't win."
Chen's jaw tightened—good hand, or good leverage. "Your sister's safe? For now. If I don't call my men in 10 minutes, she gets hurt. You want that, Cole?"
Cole's hands shook. He looked at Marcus, then at Claire. "Let him go. Please. Mia can't die."
Marcus's mind raced. He thought of his mom, of how far he'd go to protect her. He nodded at Chen. "Untie the rope. But take me instead of her."
Chen grinned. "Smart trade. Get on the boat."
Marcus stepped onto the boat. Chen pushed Claire off the pier, and she fell into the water. Marcus lunged at Chen, but Chen hit him with the gun. Marcus fell, his head throbbing.
As Chen started the boat's engine, Marcus slipped the fake chip into his pocket. He threw it onto the boat's floor—hidden under a seat.
"Marcus!" Claire yelled, climbing out of the water. She ran to the pier's edge, watching the boat speed away.
Raymond and Sophia joined her, their faces grim. "He's got a GPS tracker on him," Raymond said, nodding at the chip. "Miller can follow it."
Claire hugged herself, shivering. Marcus took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft.
She nodded, her teeth chattering. "We have to get him back. Chen's gonna kill him."
Marcus squeezed her hand. "We will. I promise."
As they walked back to the car, Marcus glanced at the shadows. A figure stood by a container—tall, wearing a baseball cap. It waved, then disappeared.
The anonymous sender.
Whoever they were, they'd been watching.
And they weren't done helping.