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Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Port Aurelia

The sedan’s engine sputtered as Mara guided it into the abandoned industrial sector of the city. The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, blinding her vision. Lucian was slipping away again, his hand pressed against his side, dark blood oozing between his fingers.

"We can't go to the warehouse," Mara said, her voice cracking. "Sebastian has it compromised. He knows your every move."

"Then we go to... the Docks," Lucian managed to breathe out. "Pier 42. An old freighter called The Black Albatross. The captain owes me his life."

Mara diverted the car toward the rusted edge of the city's coastline. Port Aurelia's shipping yards were a maze of towering shipping containers and rotting wood. It was the perfect place to hide—or the perfect place to be murdered without anyone ever finding the body.

They abandoned the car three blocks away, limping through the shadows until they found the decrepit silhouette of The Black Albatross. A single lantern flickered on the deck.

An old man with a scarred face and a heavy woolen coat stepped out of the cabin, a shotgun leveled at Mara’s chest. "Who goes there?"

"Malakai," Lucian called out, his voice barely a whisper. "The debt is due."

The old captain’s eyes widened as he recognized the bleeding mafia boss. He quickly lowered the weapon and ushered them inside the warm, oil-scented cabin. Within minutes, Malakai had produced a medical kit, expertly stitching Lucian’s wound with the practiced ease of a man who had seen too many battlefield injuries.

As Lucian slept under the influence of heavy painkillers, Mara sat by the small stove, shivering. Malakai handed her a mug of black coffee.

"You're the girl from the club," Malakai said quietly. "You shouldn't have gotten involved, child. The Vale family doesn't just kill their enemies. They erase them. By tomorrow morning, the police will have a warrant out for your name, framing you for Lucian's murder."

Mara looked up, horror gripping her. "But he's alive!"

"Sebastian controls the media and the chief of police," Malakai explained grimly. "To the world, Lucian Vale is dead, and you are the desperate bartender who shot him for his money."

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Right on cue, the small television in the corner of the cabin flickered to life. A breaking news report showed Mara’s face on the screen. The headline read: LOCAL BARTENDER WANTED FOR THE ASSASSINATION OF BILLIONAIRE LUCIAN VALE.

The Hook: Before Mara could process the terror, the boat violently shuddered. The sound of heavy metal chains scraping against the hull echoed from below. Malakai went pale. "They didn't track the car," he whispered, looking out the porthole. "They tracked me. The harbor police are boarding."

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