Marcus hated lies. They spread like infections, crawling until everything was rotten. He’d run away from home because of lies. So, how was it that he was going to walk through that door now and lie to every person in that warehouse?

  He took a deep breath, and ignoring the feeling in his gut, he shoved open the warehouse door. The scent of damp metal and old wood hit him. His eyes scanned across the stacked shelves. Finally, they settled on three figures waiting in the shadows.

  A voice echoed from one of them. “So, what’s the plan?”

  Marcus sighed. “Blackmail.”

  A gravelly chuckle rumbled from the far side of the room. Dirk. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Marcus said, his tone leaving no room for debate.

  He understood the skepticism. This group didn’t do finesse. If they were raiding a coastal warehouse, no problem. But subtlety? Another matter entirely.

  He strode towards the group to find Sasha glaring at him, arms folded tightly. “Marcus, don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped.

  “I’m completely serious.”

  “And why this plan?” She arched an eyebrow. “Because I really blend into a crowd?” She gestured to her wild, fiery red hair, barely contained in a braid.

  She wasn’t wrong; they weren’t a group that would blend in. Marcus himself was a head taller than most people. Kathrine, a stocky woman in her late thirties, had a long white scar slashing down her cheek—extremely memorable. Only Dirk, leaning against a large storage container, had the kind of forgettable face that faded into a crowd.

  Marcus shot Sasha a sharp look. “This isn’t some con where you need to hide in plain sight. We already have leverage. Besides,” Marcus added smoothly, “recognizable faces make the threat real. He can’t pretend he dreamed us up when we’re staring him down.”

  Sasha scoffed. “Oh, right. He’ll see you towering over him with your green eyes and swoon.”

  He glared back. Kathrine just chuckled.

  Marcus flattened his hand against his leg, and exhaled. “It’s blackmail either way. Matteo wants this handled quietly. That means subtle.”

  Sasha scowled. “Blackmail is so… indirect.”

  “The keyword there was subtle,” Marcus said.

  “A missing person is subtle,” Sasha muttered. “Permanent. Quiet.”

  He held back a huff. Really? She was going straight for murder? Why was it that he let himself keep getting roped in with this group? “This is a smuggling case,” he said sharply.

  “So?”

  “We’re here to reduce corruption at the port, remember? Murder’s out of line. And cleaning up the docks by killing people?” He gave her a dry look. “That’s a paradox. Also terrible for business.”

  “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But we already know he’s crooked. We rough him up, enough that he won’t make any more deals. No blackmail needed. Come on.” She leaned in. “You know it’s cleaner.”

  Marcus glared. “No.”

  “Marcus, we can just—”

  “I said no, Sasha.” He kept his voice calm, but his tone landed like steel. He didn’t want any blood on his hands today, but he also needed that dockmaster alive for this to work. “This is my operation, and we do it my way.”

  Sasha bristled, jaw tight. For a second, Marcus thought she might keep pushing, but then, without a word, she gave a faint nod and looked away.

  Marcus didn’t let his relief show. He just moved on. “The dockmaster should be in his office, alone.”

  “I could get him alone other places too,” Sasha muttered.

  Marcus ignored that. He knew exactly how Sasha would lure the man out, and exactly how that might end. He wasn’t in the mood to dispose of a body.

  “Kathrine is on lookout up top,” he continued. “Dirk is on the street. Sasha…” He looked at her. “You’re with me.”

  Kathrine nodded. At least someone here had enough experience to be reliable. He’d originally planned for Sasha to watch the exits, but given her mood, he wouldn’t put it past her to harass a random passerby out of boredom.

  “Isi obtained intelligence that our target, the dockmaster, is a little too cozy with one of the ship captains. His wife doesn’t know.”

  “Your girlfriend has been busy,” Sasha said pointedly, her voice laced with something sharp. Then, under her breath, she muttered, “Did she get that intel by getting a little too cozy herself?”

  The air in the warehouse stilled. Where in the cascades had that come from? For half a second, Marcus considered blasting Sasha across the room.

  Kathrine chuckled, breaking the tension. “Jealous, Sasha? Good partners are hard to find these days.”

  Sasha’s cheeks burned, but she recovered fast. “Never,” she shot back, turning on Kathrine.

  Kathrine smirked. “I just thought that might be an understandable excuse for making crude insinuations about our employer’s niece.”

  Sasha snapped her mouth shut. She shot a glare at Kathrine but stayed quiet.

  Marcus exhaled slowly, letting himself relax. He gave Kathrine a nod of respect. She had managed to not only avert a possible fight, but also in the same breath remind him that Sasha had recently had one of her own relationships go sour. Something must have happened this morning, something that he hadn’t noticed to provoke this sort of reaction from Sasha.

  Still, Marcus wasn’t about to let that slide. He turned his gaze to Sasha, voice cold. “Insulting me is one thing. Isi, though? She doesn’t take things like that sitting down.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  He let the silence stretch. Let her feel it.

  “She has ears in surprising places,” he added smoothly.

  Sasha winced. “Yeah. Got it.”

  Marcus surveyed the team. Dirk had barely moved, his stance relaxed against the storage container. The shadows bent strangely around him, and his skin seemed just a little too luminous. It was subtle, but he was obviously preparing, drawing in ambient light to use later, fuel for whatever tricks he had planned. Good. Dirk could blend in or stand out, exactly why he was Marcus’ wildcard.

  “When is the next predicted burst?” Marcus asked.

  “Not for three hours,” Kathrine said.

  Good. He didn’t want an EMP burst knocking out their comms. Not that it still couldn’t happen, they were unpredictable, but best to minimize the risks. Best to do this now.

  “Everyone in position in five minutes,” Marcus said.

  Kathrine and Dirk nodded sharply. Sasha hesitated but finally inclined her head.

  Marcus turned on his heel, leaving no room for argument.

  This had better be worth it, Isi, he thought. He also wouldn't mind knowing where Trevor had run off to this time, but risking his life for it? That seemed reckless.

  But he wasn't truly lying, not really. Just... withholding. He could do both: stop the smuggling, get the file. Everyone would accomplish what they needed to. As long as no one asked exactly why he needed access to all the dockmaster's files when they were done, thing would go fine. They had to. Because lying to these people? It wasn’t the sort of thing you did lightly.

  ---

  Marcus strolled down the street, keeping Sasha in his periphery. She wasn’t far, exactly where he wanted her. He turned onto one of the docks, and all of the buildings shifted from stores to warehouses.

  The air was thick with the briny scent of the ocean, mingling with the faint metallic tang of rusted shipping containers. A steady hum of dock activity echoed in the distance, the clang of metal against metal punctuated by the occasional call of workers securing cargo. The dim glow of overhead lamps cast long shadows along the cracked pavement, giving the warehouses an eerie, abandoned feel.

  He glanced up to the roof of the warehouse where Kathrine was stationed. She tapped twice on the railing with her knuckles, a subtle all-clear that barely carried over the soft ocean breeze.

  Marcus slipped into the warehouse with Sasha closely on his heels. The office was at the back of the building. He shot Sasha a sharp look that said guard the door. She rolled her eyes.

  The dockmaster barely looked up as Marcus entered. He gave him a once-over, then went back to his papers. “If you’re looking for work, I don’t need any Pulsers. Try Jack, two doors down.”

  Marcus chuckled. It wasn’t a difficult deduction to make. The blue wing jacket he was wearing was a dead giveaway to his affinity. “That’s not actually why I’m here,” Marcus said smoothly.

  The man looked up in surprise.

  “I’m afraid I’m here to discuss your deal with the Ribeiros,” Marcus said quietly, sliding into the chair in front of the desk. “You leased this warehouse from the da Silva clan. This is our dock. Matteo was—let’s say—displeased when he found out you were selling your space to another clan.”

  Marcus’ voice went cold. “We don’t tolerate smuggling here. It looks bad.”

  A twinge of fear entered the man’s face, but it quickly disappeared. “I can sell to whoever I want.”

  Marcus smiled thinly. “Of course you can. We welcome legitimate business, but the Ribeiros?” He lifted his hands in a helpless shrug. “They’re not business. They’re a liability.”

  “They’re a major clan,” the dockmaster said sharply. “Recognized. Powerful. Legitimate.”

  Marcus snorted. “If by ‘legitimate’ you mean hiding behind a veneer of polish, sure.”

  “Seems like you’re no different than them.”

  Marcus leaned forward and hissed, “Money laundering, black market tech, gun running, drugs that buzz people so out of their minds they end up in hospitals. That’s who you are defending right now. You really want to go there?”

  “So take me to court if you’re so concerned,” the dockmaster said icily.

  “We’re not interested in a legal battle.”

  The man scowled. “Then I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  Marcus pursed his lips. “That’s not an option. At least not if you don’t want your wife to find out about your little tryst with that ship captain. What was her name? Clara?” He pulled a photo from his pocket, sliding it across the table: the dockmaster and Clara, entering her boat together with a bottle of wine.

  The man’s face was livid. “You wouldn’t.”

  “To protect the da Silva’s interests? I’d say I’d do far more than that.”

  The man reached under the desk. Marcus waited for him to pull a gun. Maybe he could bring him in on a technicality? Civilians weren’t suppose to have guns. That would make it easier to get the information Isi wanted. More leverage.

  Instead, the man pulled out a bottle of scotch. Marcus’ lips twitched. Too bad. “Perhaps we can negotiate over drinks?” the man suggested, pouring himself a glass.

  Marcus let the moment hang. Then, without breaking eye contact, he picked up the bottle, and poured its contents onto the floor.

  “I’m not feeling thirsty,” he said coldly.

  The man chuckled. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re suggesting.” He threw back his own glass, grinning.

  Marcus watched him with a flat expression, unimpressed. Bravado wouldn’t save him.

  "Good," Marcus said smoothly, leaning forward just slightly. "Because if you make me waste more time, poison is going to be the least of your worries."

  There was a loud sound from the other side of the door. Then a sharp scream. Marcus turned back just as steel gleamed in the dockmaster’s hand. A gun. Illegal, stupid, perfect. Marcus’ grin spread sharp and thin. Leverage.

  “Should have gotten out while you had the chance,” the man said. “I can’t let you leave knowing what you know.”

  Marcus sighed. And that was the problem with blackmail. He hadn’t wanted things to go this way for the dockmaster’s sake. If nothing else, Sasha would be happy.

  The door swung open, and the woman in question swaggered in. The man had obviously been expecting someone else. His hand tightened on the gun. “This guy giving you trouble, Marcus?” Sasha asked as she leaned casually against the side of his chair.

  The man glanced nervously at the door, and Sasha studied her nails. “He’s not coming,” Sasha said. She gave him a little smirk. “And I’d put the gun down if I were you. You shoot one of us, and seconds later, you’re a dead man.” Sasha wriggled her fingers and heat drifted off of them, distorting the air. “It’s not a pretty way to go. I promise.”

  Yells rang out as a door flew open behind them, and a sudden flare of golden light blasted from the dockmaster, his skin going iridescent.

  Marcus exhaled sharply and blinked against the glare. Classic Luminar trick. It wouldn’t save him. The dockmaster was already gone, vanished through a hidden panel in the back wall, still swinging.

  Clever.

  Marcus cursed and bolted after him. Behind him, Sasha sighed dramatically and turned to face the guards pushing through the entryway. “Guess it’s my way after all,” she muttered, pulling out a throwing star that started to glow red hot in her hand.

  Marcus didn’t slow. The bolt door opened to a back alley. He sprinted through the maze of crates and narrow alleyways between warehouses. Kathrine’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “He’s heading east, towards Pier Seven. Dirk is in position.”

  Marcus pushed harder, pressure coiling beneath his skin. A pulse surged through his muscles, driving him forward in an explosive burst. His strides lengthened, momentum compounding with each step as his body absorbed and redirected the force. The dockmaster was fast, but Marcus was faster—inhumanly so.

  Marcus guided him exactly where he wanted, straight toward Dirk, whose presence was nearly imperceptible in the shifting shadows.

  The dockmaster stumbled, skidding to a halt as Dirk stepped into view. For a fraction of a second, the dockmaster’s brain hesitated to register him, as if Dirk had simply materialized from the shadows.

  “End of the line,” Marcus said, rolling his shoulders as he slowed to a casual stride.

  The dockmaster swung wildly, trying to bolt past, but Dirk moved effortlessly, catching him by the wrist. A quick twist and the man yelped, dropping his weapon with a clatter.

  Marcus didn’t break stride. “You shouldn’t have run.”

  He pressed his palm to the dockmaster’s chest and released a pulse, a burst of kinetic force that radiated out like a resounding drumbeat. The force disrupted the dockmaster’s natural internal pressure, forcing his ribs to absorb the impact, stealing his breath, and causing his legs to buckle.

  Marcus crouched beside him, voice almost friendly. "Let’s try this again. Shall we talk business now?"

  Dirk stepped forward, hands in his pockets, and tilted his head. "You know, for a guy who wanted subtlety, you sure do have a flair for the dramatic."

  Marcus just shrugged. “Only when it works.”

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