CASSIAN
The dock was a narrow finger of rotted wood and cold concrete stretching out into the black maw of the harbor.
Behind Emilio, the water lapped rhythmically against the pilings, a dark, hungry sound.
Beyond that, the yacht sat idling, its white hull ghostly under the flickering pier lights, its engines thrumming with the promise of an escape that was no longer possible.
Emilio had run out of directions. He stood at the very edge, the fur trim of his coat fluttering in the salt breeze, looking less like a prince of the underworld and more like the cornered prey he was.
"What do you want?" Emilio's voice was thin, reedy. The bargaining had begun. It was his only natural defense. "Money? Is that it? Whatever the number is—I can double it. I can—"
