My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the shock. After the initial adrenaline surge subsided, the immediate danger gave way to a fresh wave of cold dread. "What in God's name was that?" I barked, my voice raw.
"That wasn't an accident," Gray, dusting himself off, said grimly.
"Too precise. Too… timed."
A lone, sweating dockworker, his face pale as a ghost, stammered, "Lo-loosed rope, s-sir! Old equipment!"
My gaze swept over the damage, then back to my men, shaken but unharmed. A 'loose rope' felt too convenient, too careless. A warning? Or just an unfortunate coincidence in a place where coincidences felt like conspiracies? Either way, it galvanized me. This couldn't be allowed to stand.
I didn't waste time. Orders flew from my mouth sharp as bullets. "Lock down the area. I want men on every crane. Find the rig operator. Find out who signed clearance on these lines." My pulse hammered, but my voice stayed steady.
