[Ethan's POV]
The fog was so thick by the time we reached the Iron Street rail yard that I could barely see ten feet in front of me.
The yard was a sprawling, rusted graveyard of decommissioned freight trains, shipping containers, and overgrown tracks. It was dead silent, save for the distant, muffled sounds of the city waking up and the crunch of gravel beneath our boots.
I held up a hand, signaling Claire to stop. We crouched behind the rotting husk of a wooden boxcar.
"Look," I whispered, pointing through a gap in the rusted metal.
Parked just inside the main gate, hidden beneath the shadow of a massive loading crane, were two matte-black SUVs. They didn't have license plates. The windows were heavily tinted, and the tires were caked in fresh mud.
"Isabella's people," Claire breathed, her eyes narrowing. "They found him."
