Treason's Harbour Novels & Stories

If I judge from the layout of the harbor, it can be split into three areas: The cargo section, the ship docks, and the main hideout, which is the building in the middle. Both the cargo section and the ship docks are heavily guarded, but the main hideout seems to be guarded by a ghost... not a single soul is in it except... Hitoshi and his son. And there seem to be two tunnels underneath the ground which can be used as an escape route... so I should tell that to Sir Rigor. The harbor is surrounded by a ten-meter high wall, and no one seems to be guarding it, so it should be a walk in the park. But here comes our most formidable obstacle.

"That's what will really help me." Maybe if I saw honesty and true regret in his eyes, I would’ve been softer at handling this situation. Not only did he hurt me by tricking me into this scam of a marriage, he also tainted his image in my head, which I had always perceived as perfect and honourable, to a heartless excuse for a man. More than anger, I recognised that my emotions were dominated by feelings of hurt. Utter betrayal. The Alan that I knew from my past would never do something like that.

I told you that Laura can be taken to the mortuary now, he did instruct the mortuary attendants to do so since they were outside already. I wept bitterly as I saw them carry my treasure away. It was such a pain that have never experience. I don't wish such to happen even to a worst enemy.

“This has intel from a contact in the docks. Shipping manifests. I think Cassidy’s been moving something through the old East Harbor warehouses—high security, no official records.” Damien picked up the flash drive. “If she’s using East Harbor, that’s bold. Too exposed for anyone careful… unless she’s confident nobody will dare challenge her there.” “Exactly,” Elara said. “We make her overconfidence work for us.” The next two hours blurred into focused planning. Maps were spread across the table, marked with circles and arrows. Damien hacked into the harbor’s security cameras, giving them a real-time look at the shipping yards. Marcus went over possible infiltration routes, pointing out where

Just like he had said over his text, Hugo and Stan were the only extra muscles that came with us. We followed a narrow uneven road path that wound through the dense woods. The drive was uncomfortable, the protruding roots of trees and rocks on its surface making the cars wobble as we went on. After two hours, we arrived at a gate that led to the city's old ship harbour. It had been neglected for over a few years, with broken crates and discarded ship metal pieces lying around at every corner. There was fog rolling in from the sea, concealing the harbour from the above around and making the entire place feel like a haunted house from a horror movie.

Kemi reached out, her rough, grease-stained hand locking around mine, pulling me gently to my feet. "Come look," she whispered. I walked to the shattered edge of the dreadnought’s bow, holding my daughter tightly against my chest. Thousands of inland rebels, scrap-workers, and frontier families were gathered along the concrete wet docks, their weapons lowered, their faces turned entirely toward the center of the harbor. The low tide had receded completely, revealing the deepest structure of the maritime trench. There, rising out of the black salt mud like a towering, eternal monument of pure defiance, was Dante.

This far from shore, on a windy day like this, it was impossible to tie the boats together, so they just continued to call across the narrow stretch of water between them. "How did you get here?" Leo called. "By plane, the same as you." Jackson grinned. "And then we tracked you to Puerto Plata. You found that treasure yet?" "Not quite. But we've found quite a bit of trouble." Jackson's smile fell away. "What kind of trouble?" "Nash. And four of his men. We ran into them on Grand Turk. We're on to something. We have to be." He scanned the other boat again. "Did Roth send you to drag us back to Dubrovnik?"

By noon of the second day, the coast unrolled into tidy ambition. Conclave's harbour wore its wealth frankly, quays dressed in fresh stone, bollards polished like manners, warehouses with shutters that wanted to be eyelids. Flags argued politely in the wind, guild banners, house colours, the crown's swan looking self-satisfied as only ink can. "Pretty," Jas said, unimpressed. "Like a pastry with poison in it." "Dock soft," Old Noll muttered, thumb to the air. "They scrub for company."

" The harbourmaster, who is he? Why was the old one changed and why the hell was I not informed before he was changed?" Harold chuckled, " Elijah, this city doesn't belong to you, I don't have to run every decision I make by you. The old harbourmaster was due for retirement and so he retired and now there's a new one." I growled, " With the money I'm bumping into this city and your pockets, I might as well own it. Look here, set your new guy straight, and let him know how things are run at the Port. He's holding back a shipment and sniffing around my goods. Tell him to mind his business if he knows what's good for him. I want my cargo cleared by tomorrow morning."

“I’m not here for tea and recovery. He has Belle. I’m not sitting out again.” She comes to the edge of the table and studies the cluttered plans. Her fingers move across the images without touching them. Her eyes scan every document with the kind of quick, brutal clarity only someone raised inside a monster’s walls can have. She sees what I’ve seen. The patterns. The holes. And something else. “Here,” she says, pointing to a cluster of ports on the southeast coast. “He used this one when we were kids. I remember him bragging once to my dad that nobody checks the manifests there. The harbor master’s on his payroll.”