Chapter 7 - Pier 44
The taxi dropped me off a mile away from the shipping yard.
The driver refused to go any closer, terrified of the notorious reputation of the docks.
I walked the rest of the way in the freezing wind, the heavy satin of my dress dragging through the muddy puddles.
Pier 44 was surrounded by a massive chain-link fence topped with razor wire.
There were no guards at the front gate, which was highly suspicious for a billionaire’s shipping yard.
I found a small gap in the rusty fence and squeezed myself through, tearing the lace on my sleeves.
The yard was filled with towering metal shipping containers, casting long, terrifying shadows in the setting sun.
I crept silently between the massive steel boxes, listening for any sign of life.
Suddenly, I heard the faint sound of a man coughing violently.
The sound echoed from a large, dimly lit warehouse at the very end of the pier.
I pressed my back against the cold metal wall of the building, inching my way toward a dirty window.
I peered through the grime and saw a horrific scene playing out inside.
My father was tied to a wooden chair in the center of the concrete floor.
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His face was bruised, and blood dripped from his swollen lip.
And standing directly in front of him, holding a heavy steel pipe, was my fiancé, Mark.
