Chapter 7 - Crossfire
"Well, well, well," Victor Vance purred, lowering his megaphone as his eyes raked over my trembling form. "The waitress who thinks she’s a soldier. You really love playing with fire, don't you, sweetheart?"
"Leave him alone," I called out, taking slow, deliberate steps forward into the kill zone, ignoring the frantic pounding of my own heart. "You want revenge against Voss? Take it out on me. I’m the one who tipped off his security team."
Harlan’s chest heaved, his face draining of all color as he stared at me. For the first time since I had met him, the untouchable Detroit kingpin looked completely, utterly shattered.
"Rue... get out of here," Harlan growled, taking a half-step forward, his muscles coiling like a struck spring.
"Ah-ah-ah!" Vance barked, raising the detonator higher. "One more inch, Voss, and I turn this entire dock into a crater. Including your little waitress."
Vance motioned to two of his heavies. "Grab her. Tie her to the pillar beside the charges. Let’s see how brave our hero is when he has to watch her burn."
The two mercenaries lunged forward, grabbing my arms and dragging me roughly across the concrete toward a steel pillar wrapped in C4 explosives. The smell of industrial plastic and fuel was suffocating. They bound my wrists tightly behind the cold metal, shoving a strip of duct tape harshly across my mouth.
I looked across the warehouse floor at Harlan. His eyes locked onto mine, and in that silent exchange, a terrifying understanding passed between us.
He wasn't going to let me die.
Harlan slowly raised his hands, palms open. "You win, Vance. Put the detonator down. Take all my accounts, take my properties, take the entire North End."
"Too late for negotiations, Harlan," Vance sneered, his thumb hovering inches from the trigger. "Say goodbye to your empire—and your girl."
Before Vance’s thumb could depress the button, a thunderous crash echoed from the upper catwalks above.
Clang! Crash!
Miller and three of Voss’s elite commandos dropped from the ceiling rafters like avenging angels, raining automatic fire down onto Vance’s mercenaries. Chaos erupted instantly. Bullets chewed through metal drums, sparks showered down like fireworks, and screams filled the smoky air.
Harlan didn't wait for the smoke to clear. He charged forward like a freight train, slamming directly into the nearest mercenary and sending him flying across a wooden crate.
Vance panicked, frantically trying to depress the detonator. "Die, you bastards, die!"
With a roar of pure fury, Harlan leaped across a stack of shipping pallets, tackling Vance squarely to the concrete just as the detonator flew from the rival boss's hand.
Miller sprinted over to me with a hunting knife, slicing through my bindings in seconds and ripping the tape from my mouth.
"Are you okay?" Miller shouted over the gunfire.
"I'm fine! Get the hostages out of here!" I yelled back, rubbing my raw wrists.
Across the warehouse, Harlan was kneeling over Victor Vance, his bare hands locked around the rival’s throat, slamming his head repeatedly against the concrete floor until Vance went completely limp.
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The remaining mercenaries dropped their weapons and raised their hands, realizing the war was over.
Harlan slowly stood up, breathing heavily, his suit stained with blood and soot. He turned around slowly, his dark eyes scanning the warehouse until they found me standing safely by the pillar.
