Pier 42 on the southern outskirts of Atlantic City was a decaying industrial graveyard of rusted shipping containers, abandoned cranes, and derelict salt warehouses. A dense, freezing sea fog rolled in from the dark waters of the bay, masking the shoreline in a shroud of white mist. Elena walked through the narrow alley between two towering stacks of red shipping containers, her boots crunching in the wet gravel. In her…
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