The deafening noise of automatic weapons filled the warehouse, bouncing off the corrugated walls.

I pressed my back against the cold iron of the generator, my heart hammering in my ears.

The black truck that had breached the gate did not stop.

It slammed through a stack of wooden pallets, sending splinters flying through the air.

The driver slammed on the brakes, the tires sliding on the wet concrete.

The passenger door swung open.

Through the glare of the headlights, I saw a familiar face behind the wheel.

It was a face I had not expected to see tonight.

My phone in my hand buzzed again, the screen displaying a single new line of text.

The screen showed a PDF file titled *Calder Transit Ledger – Secondary Manifests*.

Julian leaned across the passenger seat of the black truck, his eyes wide behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

“Get in, Maeve!” he shouted over the idling diesel engine.

But I did not move toward the truck.

The gunfire had stalled, the shooters on the catwalk waiting to see whose side the truck was on.