Chapter 8 – The Port

Margot’s POV

The port stretched out before us, a sprawling maze of towering cargo containers, rusted fishing boats, and the steady hum of industry. The scent of salt and diesel clung to the air, mingling with the distant cries of seagulls circling overhead.

But despite making it here, we had no idea where to go next.

Cara and I slowed to a stop near a row of metal benches facing the water, both of us scanning the area with increasing confusion. People bustled around us – workers unloading crates, sailors moving between vessels – but nothing stood out as an obvious meeting point.

“You see anything?” Cara asked, shifting the strap of her backpack.

“Nope.” I exhaled sharply, already feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping in again. “Maybe we missed something in the email?”

I fished out our paperwork, quickly fumbling through the old email chain until I found it – the message confirming our acceptance into the experiment, complete with vague details about our arrival.

Upon reaching Meadowbank Port, you will be met by a representative of the program. Please wait for further instruction.

That was it. No description, no clear location, just a promise that someone would find us.

“Seriously?” I muttered, frowning down at my screen. “That’s all we got?”

Cara sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Great. Love that for us. Is this shit even legit?!”

We stood there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot as we tried to look like we weren’t completely lost. I could feel the glances of a few passing dock workers, their eyes lingering just a little too long, probably wondering what two girls like us were doing loitering around a damn industrial port.

And then, just as I was about to suggest moving somewhere less obvious, a voice cut through the noise.

“Here for the project by any chance, ladies?”

Both of our heads snapped up.

The man standing before us looked like he had walked straight out of a nightmare.

He was tall and built like a bouncer, dressed in a crisp black uniform that should’ve made him look professional – except it didn’t. The sharpness of his jawline, the coldness in his dark eyes, and most of all, the thick scar that ran from his cheekbone to his jawline made him look like the last person on earth we wanted to be dealing with.

I stiffened instinctively, my fight-or-flight instincts kicking in.

Cara, beside me, was frozen as well, her lips slightly parted in what was probably the same mix of shock and fear that I was feeling.

The man’s eyes flicked between us, clearly amused by our reaction.

“Well?” he prompted, arms crossed. “Are you here for the project or not?”

Cara was the first to move, nodding so fast I thought her head might snap off. “Yes! Yeah, that’s us.”

I swallowed hard, managing a weak, “Uh-huh.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. He just gave us a slow once-over, as if assessing whether we were worth his time. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and started walking.

“Follow me.”

I exchanged a quick glance with Cara.

Was this it?

Sure, he was in uniform, but nothing about him felt particularly safe. If anything, he looked like the kind of guy you’d cross the street to avoid.

Cara hesitated. “I mean… we could just, you know, not follow the terrifying man with a scar across his face.”

I let out a slow breath. “And do what? Turn around and go back home after all that?”

She frowned, clearly debating it.

But she knew as well as I did we were already in too deep.

It was now or never.

With that, we fell into step behind him, weaving through the docks as the distant crash of waves echoed around us.

The deeper we went, the more isolated it became. The public areas of the port faded behind us, replaced by towering storage containers stacked high like a fortress. Seagulls perched on rusted beams, watching us as we followed our silent guide past forklifts and abandoned pallets.

I kept my head on a swivel, noting every turn, every detail, just in case we needed to bolt.

Cara must’ve been thinking the same thing because she edged closer to me, lowering her voice. “Okay, I know we agreed to this whole thing, but is it just me, or is this giving major ‘human trafficking psychotic killer’ vibes?”

I elbowed her sharply, muttering, “Not helping.”

Ahead of us, the man didn’t react – either he hadn’t heard, or he just didn’t care.

Then, as we rounded a final corner, I saw it.

A massive navy blue transport ferry loomed in the water, docked at the very edge of the port.

But this wasn’t just any ferry.

This thing was built like a fucking fortress.

The entire deck was lined with guards – actual, uniformed guards, armed and standing in perfect formation. A few other people in important-looking suits were scattered near the loading area, talking amongst themselves.

The sight of it made my stomach drop.

“Holy shit,” Cara whispered beside me. “Are we going to war or something?”

I didn’t answer. I was too busy trying to process what I was looking at.

We had expected something shady.

But this?

This was military-level shady.

The man leading us came to a stop and turned to face us, expression unreadable. “This is where you’ll be boarding.”

I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat. “And… where exactly are we going? Which prison?”

His lips twitched into something that almost resembled a smirk.

“You’ll find that out soon enough.”

My pulse hammered against my ribs.

There was no turning back now.

Cara and I stood there, rooted to the spot, staring up at the massive prisoner transport ferry. The waves lapped against the hull, the low groan of metal and water mixing with the distant cries of seagulls. The entire thing looked like a floating tank, reinforced with thick steel barriers and lined with high-powered floodlights. This wasn’t some casual science experiment; this was full-scale security.

And we were about to step right into the middle of it.

“Well?” The scarred man crossed his arms, watching us with thinly veiled amusement. “Second thoughts?”

My mouth was dry, and I had to force my voice to work. “No.”

“Good,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Then follow me. And don’t fall behind.”

He turned sharply and started toward the docking platform without another word.

Cara exhaled, rubbing her hands over her face. “I cannot believe we’re doing this.”

“Too late to back out now,” I muttered with a weak shrug.

Cara shot me a sharp look. “I was kinda hoping you’d say something more reassuring…”

But I didn’t have anything reassuring to say.

Instead, I just started walking, forcing my legs to move even though every instinct in my body screamed at me to turn around and run.

The closer we got, the more details I could make out – massive, reinforced doors that led into the lower decks, thick chains securing parts of the ship, and rows of small, reinforced windows high up on the upper levels.

And then there were the guards.

Not just a handful – dozens of them. Some posted at the entryway, others stationed along the perimeter of the dock, all of them heavily armed and watching everything with a cold, calculated stare.

They didn’t acknowledge us, didn’t react to our presence, but I felt their eyes tracking our every step.

This wasn’t normal security…

“Okay, this is officially the scariest, most fucked-up thing I’ve ever done,” Cara admitted, shuffling closer to my side as I gulped.

I didn’t respond, my stomach twisting into knots. The fact that she, of all people, was scared, made my pulse race.

The scarred man led us up a metal gangway, the platform rattling beneath our feet as we stepped onto the ship.

The moment we crossed the threshold, I felt the atmosphere shift.

It was colder up here.

Not temperature-wise – though the salty sea breeze had a definite bite – but in the feeling of the place.

It was sterile. Clinical.

Something about the air just felt wrong, like stepping into a building that had seen things no one ever talked about.

We were led into a stark, metallic-walled corridor with bright, fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly overhead. The walls were bare except for a few numbered signs, each marking different sections of the ferry. The scent of disinfectant clung to the air, so sharp that it burned at my nose.

Where was everyone else? We couldn’t be the only two signed up?!

The scarred man finally came to a stop near a set of doors, turning to face us. “Wait right here.”

Before we could respond, he knocked twice, sharp and precise.

The door clicked open from the inside, and a second uniformed man stepped out – older this time, with short silvering hair and a crisp white lab coat over his uniform. His sharp eyes flickered between me and Cara before he nodded once.

“They’re the last two?” he asked.

The scarred man nodded. “Yeah, must be. I found them just now.”

The older man studied us for a long moment, then motioned for us to step forward.

“You’ll be processed before we set off,” he said. “Follow me.”

Cara gave me a pointed ‘what the hell does he mean, processed?’ look, but I ignored it, too focused on keeping my breathing steady.

Because now that we were here, standing inside this place, feeling the weight of its security pressing down on us…

I wasn’t sure if we’d made the biggest mistake of our lives.

It was real… all too real!