Chapter 9 - THE COLLAPSEA deafening roar ripped through the core of the skyscraper.
It wasn't an explosion—it was the sound of millions of gallons of water rushing up through the subterranean maintenance shafts.
Months ago, when Grant was quietly liquidating his assets, he had commissioned an emergency flood-purge protocol for every major building in the syndicate’s real estate portfolio—a fail-safe designed to destroy physical evidence in the event of a hostile takeover.
And the system had just been manually triggered.
Torrents of freezing harbor water burst through the floor grates in the hallway, sending Victor’s tactical guards crashing off their feet. The heavy metal security doors slammed shut automatically, sealing the perimeter and trapping Victor inside our sector with us.
“What did you do?!” Victor screamed over the roar of rushing water, slipping on the slick marble floor as a wave soaked his expensive suit.
“I secured the building,” Grant said coolly, stepping forward as the water rose to our ankles.
Victor raised his gun in desperation, but the rising water made his footing impossible. He fired wildly, the bullet shattering the glass partition behind my desk, but before he could squeeze off a second round, the emergency floor-drain system sucked the water away with violent suction, dragging Victor off balance.
I didn't hesitate. I lunged forward, sweeping my leg across his ankles.
Victor hit the marble floor hard, his pistol skidding across the slick surface and plunging into the active drainage grate.
Grant stood over him, his shadow towering against the red emergency lights. He didn't pull a weapon. He didn't need to. The look in the former mafia boss's eyes was enough to crush a man’s soul.
“You killed Maya,” Grant said quietly. “And you tried to take my son.”
“You can’t touch me!” Victor spat, coughing up water as he tried to scramble backward. “My badge protects me! The entire department answers to—”
“The department answers to the truth now,” a booming voice echoed from the elevator alcove.
The emergency override doors had finally opened. Standing in the doorway was the newly appointed Federal Prosecutor, flanked by federal marshals with weapons drawn.
“Chief Victor Vance,” the lead marshal announced, stepping forward with handcuffs ready. “You are under arrest for federal corruption, conspiracy, and the murder of Maya Henderson.”
Victor went limp, the color entirely draining from his face as the cuffs clicked securely around his wrists. As the marshals dragged him away, he cast one final, venomous glare back at me and Grant.
“You think this ends with me?” Victor laughed hysterically as they shoved him into the elevator. “The machine doesn't stop because one gear breaks! Harbor City belongs to the shadows, Whitmore! It always will!”
The elevator doors closed, cutting off his laughter.
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The red emergency lights flickered once, twice, and then steady, bright white office lights flooded the room.
The nightmare was finally, truly over.
