Page 38 of We Will Rise

“Let’s search the ship,” Bishop suggests. “We need to know if there’s anything else on here that might indicate who’s behind it.”

Camilla nods and lets out a breath as she shifts from foot to foot. Her eyes dart to the few workers standing around waiting for instructions. “You can go home for the day,” she calls out to them.

There’s a few murmurs before they shrug and head toward the office to pick up their shit.

“Don’t we need them?” Luca asks.

“They’re paid to get things on and off the ship. They know there’s illegal shit in the boxes sometimes, but it’s usually drugs and guns. Not human body parts. The fewer people that know about this shipment and its contents, the better,” Camilla explains. “Plus, I called in all our free workers from the illegitimate side of the business. They’re more equipped for what they might find.”

My eyes flick up to Crew, who’s looking at our girl like he’s impressed by her logic. Over and over again, she’s proving exactly why her father chose her for the job she now holds.

“All right, let’s get started. I want everyone working in pairs. We have no idea what’s on this boat, and I wouldn’t put it past Davenport to have a trap set, so I don’t want anyone alone,” Camilla orders.

“I call dibs on being your buddy, Princess.” I smirk, moving around the crate we were all surrounding.

She nods with a sigh. “Do you happen to have that go bag you packed for me? These shoes weren’t exactly made for searching a ship.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BISHOP

None of this makes any sense.

Why would someone harvest organs and ship them when they almost certainly have lost their viability by now.

It can’t be about proving a point, because it’s not like they’re ever going to hit the market after being outside the body for at least twelve hours, but probably more.

I’ve had to Google some fucked-up things in the years since we formed the Syndicate, but how many hours can an organ be outside the body before transplant may take the cake.

Crew and I move through the shipping containers, but a lot of them are empty. Why would someone bother with a ship this size to transport so little?

“What are your thoughts on all this?” Crew asks.

“It’s a setup. I’m just not sure what exactly is being set up,” I admit. We have a team of the men Frost Industries sent over at every entrance to the docks in case Davenport was planning on storming the area and taking the shipment, but it’s been quiet. Almost too much so.

“Usually I’d wonder if it’s them trying to instill doubt in our minds, but I think we’re past that at this point,” Crew replies.

“And why would they set the docking time for while they knew Camilla would be at the funeral? It doesn’t benefit them if she’s not here, unless there’s another angle we’re not seeing.”

Crew nods as he raises his gun toward the next shipping container, while I use a set of bolt cutters to remove the lock. I pull the heavy metal open and sigh when we find it empty, just like the last four we’ve checked.

“This is pointless. There’s nothing here,” I growl.

Crew drops his gun to his side and pulls his phone from his pocket, likely checking for any updates from the others. “Wyatt and Ace are working on where the ship originated, but without any paperwork, it’s slow going.”

“How the hell did it even get out of the port without papers?”

He raises a brow at me. “Like cargo ships haven’t been used for decades to smuggle things in and out of cities without being detected. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

We continue moving through the rows of containers, occasionally catching sight of Kaos and Camilla a few over from us, and even though I’m jealous as hell that he gets to spend this time with her, he’s probably the most capable of protecting her if there’s any surprises to be found.

A small whimper catches my attention, and I pause in place, listening intently to locate the sound.

“What is it?” Crew asks.

I lift my hand to stop him from speaking and concentrate on pushing the other sounds from my mind. The water lapping at the edge of the ship. The commotion on the dock. The faint traffic noises from the nearby roads.

And then I hear it again.

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