“Warehouse Fourteen,” I said. “The old cold-storage facility at the edge of the north pier.”

The siren outside surged in volume, then abruptly cut off, leaving only the sound of heavy rain against the glass.

Declan let the curtain fall shut and turned back to us.

“The street is quiet,” Declan said. “For now.”

“We need to move before Victor’s scouts loop back to this address,” Roman said.

He reached down and closed my laptop, plunging the room into near-total darkness.

I stood up, my knees slightly weak, and packed the laptop into my bag.

“Richard will go to the warehouse tonight,” I said. “He cannot risk Victor or you finding that money first.”

“He will bring whatever muscle he has left,” Declan said, his teeth bared in a grim smile.

“He has no one left,” I said. “Only the men he can buy with promises.”

“Then we catch him at the harbor,” Roman said.

He walked toward the door, his leather coat rustling in the dark.

“Wait,” I said, stopping him. “We cannot just walk in.”

“Why not?” Declan asked.