“My warehouse isn’t empty,” I said. “And we are delivering every single crate of that insulin tonight.”

I hung up before he could answer.

My hand was shaking as I set the phone on the metal desk.

I took a deep breath, letting the cool air clear the tightness in my chest.

Through the glass, I saw Calvin beckon to me.

I walked back out into the freezing bay, the cold hitting my cheeks like a physical slap.

Calvin was standing inside the back of the trailer, his flashlight beam pointed at the very back row of cargo.

I climbed up the small metal steps into the truck.

The smell of cardboard and cold steel was thick in the confined space.

“Look at these,” Calvin said, tapping the side of a heavy plastic crate with his boot.

The crate was identical to the medical containers we usually hauled.

But the locking mechanism on the lid was made of a cheaper, darker gray plastic.

“These aren’t from our Aurora shipment,” Calvin said. “The tracking stickers are fake.”

I knelt down, rubbing my gloved thumb over the barcode.