The rhythmic thrum of the cargo ship’s engines was the only sound in the night until the heavy metallic clank of footsteps echoed above. Zayn froze, pressing his back against the cold steel of a shipping container. He peeked around the corner just in time to see Vincent’s silhouette ascending a hanging ladder, disappearing into a container stacked four levels high.

Zayn didn’t hesitate. He climbed the ladder with the silent precision of a predator. When he wrenched the container door open, the interior was dimly lit, smelling of salt and grease. Vincent was standing there, a wicked, jagged grin stretching across his face.