Calvin caught up to me, holding the paper manifest clipboard against his chest to protect it from the damp air.

“What are we looking for?” Calvin asked, his breath misting in the cold.

“The sender,” I said.

I took the clipboard from his hands, my fingers stiffening in the biting cold.

My eyes scanned the lines of printed text, past the destination codes and the weight limits, down to the origin details.

The medical shipments were supposed to come directly from the state depot in Aurora.

But the stamp on the bottom of the sheet did not say Aurora.

It was stamped with a logo I recognized instantly, a small blue triangle.

“Apex Logistics,” I whispered.

Calvin leaned over my shoulder, his face hardening as he read the name.

“That’s impossible,” Calvin said. “We don’t sub-contract for Apex. We never have.”

“They didn’t sub-contract,” I said.

My phone buzzed again in my hand, the screen lighting up with a text message from the same unknown number.

I opened it, my thumb shaking.

The message was brief: *They are already inside the trucks.*