The Last Heir of the Forbidden Family

Chapter 21: Cold Harbor

Chapter 21: Cold Harbor

Seraphine squeezed through the gap in the barbed wire next, her breath pluming white in the freezing midnight air as she clutched a modified data-pad tightly against her chest. Her face was pale, drawn tight with exhaustion and lingering shock, but her eyes were sharp, scanning the shadows for security domes. She dropped down beside Kenji, her boots sliding half an inch on the slick, oil-stained pavement.

"Dorian's container is four rows deep, behind the refrigeration units," Kenji whispered, keeping his eyes locked on a sweeping amber camera arc fifty yards away. "We have twenty seconds before that patrol drone clears the perimeter crane. Move."

Seraphine didn’t move. She gripped Kenji’s jacket sleeve, pulling him down behind a rusted stack of intermodal units. "Twenty seconds? Kenji, we left a kid dying in a climate-controlled box with a jerry-rigged heart monitor that’s going to fail the second the auxiliary battery drains. We shouldn't be playing hide-and-seek with corporate security guards right now."

Kenji pulled his arm away with a sharp, impatient jerk, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the blind spot between two towering stacks of steel. "If we rush, we walk straight into a cleanup crew’s kill-zone. You want to carry Dorian through a hail of smart-bullets because you couldn't wait ten extra seconds for a camera cycle?"

"We are wasting precious time playing stealth games," Seraphine hissed, her voice rising despite the danger, her fingers curling into tight fists at her sides. "Every second we stand here arguing, that tracker Vance gets closer to the auto-shop. We need a transport vessel now, not a guided tour of the damn waterfront."

"If you want to scream your location to every patrol drone in the sector, go ahead," Kenji snapped back, his teeth flashing in the dim, sickly amber glow of the yard lights. "I’m getting us a boat. Follow me or stay here and wait for the corporate sweeps."

Without waiting for an answer, Kenji darted across the open wet asphalt, his boots barely making a sound as he slipped into the deep, pitch-black shadow cast by a towering crane arm. Seraphine cursed under her breath, checked the strap of her sling, and broke cover after him, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as she dodged a sweeping security beam by a fraction of a second.

They wove deeper into the labyrinth of the Voss Shipping Docks, past towering stacks of rusting steel boxes that groaned and creaked under the heavy coastal wind. The air smelled of heavy diesel, rotting kelp, and ozone. Kenji moved with the practiced, predatory grace of an old corporate-runner, his eyes darting constantly from overhead catwalks to the damp ground below, hunting for the familiar markers of corporate blind spots.

"Hold up," Kenji muttered, raising a gloved hand as he pressed his back hard against a massive, corrugated refrigeration unit.

Seraphine slammed to a halt beside him, breathing heavily through her nose, trying to quiet the loud rasp of her lungs. "What?"

"Patrol sweep," Kenji murmured, pointing toward the end of the aisle.

A pair of heavy-armored security guards in slate-grey corporate uniforms marched past the end of the alleyway, their automatic rifles held at the ready, heavy tactical boots splashing rhythmically through the puddles. The red laser sights of their weapons swept back and forth across the damp pavement, missing Kenji and Seraphine by less than fifteen feet.

As soon as the guards rounded the corner, Kenji didn't hesitate. He motioned sharply with his head and slipped out of the alley, leading Seraphine toward a darker, narrower corridor between two towering rows of containers that smelled sharply of stale bilge water and salt.

At the end of the narrow gap sat a dilapidated, rusted floating office barge anchored to a rotting wooden pier. A single yellow incandescent bulb swung lazily above its warped metal door, casting erratic shadows over the oily black water below.

"Silas's barge," Kenji whispered, checking the heavy mechanical lock on the barge's hatch. "If he hasn't skipped town or sold us out to the regional director, this is how we get off the grid."

Seraphine looked doubtfully from the swaying, decrepit barge to the dark, churning waters of the bay. "You actually trust this guy?"

"I don't trust anyone," Kenji replied, sliding his combat knife back into its sheath with a soft, ominous click. "I just trust that Silas hates the corporation more than he hates me. Stay close, keep your weapon drawn, and if anyone else steps off that pier, put a bullet in them before they can blink."

Seraphine pulled the slide of her pistol back, the sharp metallic snap echoing softly against the d

amp steel walls. "Lead the way."