The black car sped up, its tires screeching on the wet gravel as it tore toward the main gate.

“They’re flanking us!” Romano yelled over the noise of the rain and the bullets.

I dragged Marcus behind the corner of the shipping container.

He was heavy, his boots dragging in the gray puddles.

His blood mixed with the rainwater, turning the puddles a pale, swirling pink.

“He lied to me,” Marcus whispered, his hand clutching his bleeding shoulder.

His fingers were slick with dark blood.

“Tony told me I would take over,” he muttered, his teeth chattering from shock.

“Tony used you to clear his own path,” I said, checking my magazine.

I peered around the rusted edge of the metal.

Two men in dark tactical gear were moving between the cranes, their rifles raised.

The rain was coming down harder now, blurring the red lights of the harbor.

A bullet struck the container right next to my ear with a high-pitched scream of tearing metal.

I pulled my head back, the vibration rattling my teeth.

“We can’t stay here,” Romano said, sliding over to join us.