Midnight- At the docks.
The docks were a desolate stretch of asphalt and rusting metal, the air heavy with the smell of salt and oil. The midnight hour brought a chilling wind that whipped around David, stinging his cheeks.
He stood alone under the flickering light of a rusty lamppost, glancing at his watch for the third time in as many minutes.
David stood there, his breath visible in the cold night air, waiting.
He checked his watch. 11:57 .P.M.
Matt was late.
David's mind raced, replaying his conversation with Adam earlier that morning. The weight of his decisions hung heavily on his shoulders, knowing that if things went wrong, Matt wouldn't make it through the night.
His heart pounded, a relentless drumbeat of anxiety. He had to see Matt before he went to Carter. Every second felt like a countdown, and the gravity of the situation weighed on him.
