Fogbound Exchange

The dock lights made the fog look dirty.

Aleandro stood beside the limousine and watched the warehouse door, one hand in his coat pocket, the other loose at his side. Vincent waited half a step behind him, still as a bolt.

A shape moved near the loading bay.

Then another.

The side door opened, and two of Marcus’s men came out first, checking the dark. A third pushed Isabella between them.

Her hair had come loose from its pin. The red purse from earlier hung from her wrist like a mistake. One of the men held a pistol low against her ribs.

Aleandro did not move.

Marcus stepped into view a second later, coat collar up, smile hard enough to cut glass. “You came.”

“You’re late,” Aleandro said.

Marcus laughed and glanced at Isabella. “That’s a funny way to greet family.”

Her eyes found Aleandro and slipped away again.

He saw the mark of fear before she covered it. A small pause in her breath. Her hand at her throat.

“Bring her closer,” he said.

Marcus did. Not all the way. Close enough for the lamp on the dock to catch Isabella’s face, pale under the fog.

Aleandro looked at Marcus. “You asked for a meeting. Here it is.”

Marcus’s smile thinned. “I asked for leverage. You bring me papers, I hand you back your fiancée.”

“You brought men.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“No.”

The answer landed cleanly. One of Marcus’s men shifted his grip on the gun.

Aleandro’s gaze stayed on Marcus. “You said no guns.”

Marcus spread his hands. “This is Brooklyn. I didn’t think you’d want a fair fight.”

Aleandro gave a small nod, as if that settled something. “Then we won’t have one.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s the package?”

“In the warehouse.”

“You think I’m walking in blind?”

“No,” Aleandro said. “I think you’re already walking.”

The warehouse behind them gave a low metallic groan. Marcus glanced over his shoulder, then back, annoyed by the sound.

Inside, somewhere deep in the dark, a lock clicked.

One of Marcus’s men swore. The side doors on the east wall rolled down with a violent clatter, steel meeting steel. Then the west doors. Then the loading gate behind the trucks.

The fog swallowed the sound and gave it back as an echo.

Marcus turned fast. “What the hell did you do?”

Red light bloomed across the warehouse floor.

Three dots. Then six. Then more, pinned on shoulders, throats, and foreheads.

His men froze.

From the catwalk, a voice called, “Weapons down.”

Another voice answered from the far end, same order, same flat tone.

Vincent had already moved, hand at his belt, eyes on the exits, reading the room like a map.

Marcus’s gun came up higher against Isabella’s temple. “You set this up.”

Aleandro’s face did not change.

“I told you no guns,” he said. “You decided to test me.”

Marcus’s jaw worked. “Back off or she dies.”

Aleandro took one slow step forward.

Then another.

His voice stayed quiet. “Go ahead and shoot.”

The fog pressed at the broken doorway. The lasers held steady. Marcus blinked once, and for the first time his smile went out.