Chapter 6 - BLOOD ON THE DOCKSThe abandoned shipyard was a labyrinth of rusted shipping containers, flickering halogen lights, and the constant, oppressive roar of the ocean crashing against the wooden piers.
I walked down the central lane, my boots splashing in dirty puddles. Rain soaked my hair, sticking it to my face, but I kept my chin up, my right hand buried deep in the pocket of my trench coat, fingers wrapped tightly around the cold handle of the pistol.
"Clara!" a weak, raspy voice called out.
I snapped my head toward the sound. Tied to a metal chair beneath a harsh, swaying floodlight was Michael. His face was unrecognizable—swollen, bruised, bleeding from a deep cut above his eye.
"Michael!" I called out, taking a step forward.
"Stop right there, beautiful," a smooth, sinister voice echoed from the shadows.
A man stepped out from behind a red shipping container. He was tall, thin, with slicked-back gray hair and a tailor-made coat that didn't hide the cruelty in his eyes. Victor Rossi. Head of the Syndicate. Four armed guards flanked him, their assault rifles raised and aimed directly at my chest.
"You actually came," Victor sneered, stepping closer. "Dante’s little guardian angel. I must admit, I didn't think a peasant like you would have the guts."
"I'm here," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the violent hammering of my heart. "Let Michael go."
Victor laughed—a dry, rattling sound. "Oh, the pathetic ex-fiance? He was just the worm on the hook, my dear. I don't care about him. I care about what you mean to Dante Moretti."
"I mean nothing to him!" I lied, taking a half-step back. "I was just a waitress!"
"Is that why his entire private security force is currently crawling through my perimeter?" Victor asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
My heart dropped into my stomach. He knew.
Victor raised his hand and snapped his fingers. "Kill the ex. Secure the girl. We're leaving before Moretti—"
BANG!
A sharp gunshot shattered the night air. The guard standing to Victor’s left collapsed instantly, a clean hole drilled through his forehead.
Chaos erupted.
"AMBUSH!" Victor roared, diving behind a container as high-caliber gunfire rained down from the surrounding rooftops.
Dante’s men sprang from the darkness like ghosts, muzzle flashes illuminating the rain-slicked yard in violent strobes of light. The sound was deafening—screams, shattering glass, ricocheting metal, and the endless roar of automatic weapons.
I didn't hesitate. I sprinted toward Michael, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the small knife Dante had given me.
"Clara! God, Clara, I'm sorry!" Michael sobbed, his eyes wild with terror as I sawed frantically through the thick ropes binding his wrists. "I didn't mean for this to happen! They found me!"
"Shut up and get ready to run!" I yelled over the din of gunfire.
The rope snapped. Michael scrambled to his feet, but instead of helping me, he grabbed my arm and shoved me hard toward an oncoming guard who had rounded the corner with a drawn pistol.
"Take her! Just don't kill me!" Michael screamed, fleeing blindly into the dark alleyways between the containers.
The sheer, sickening betrayal hit me harder than any bullet. My ex-fiance—the man I had risked my life to save—had just used me as a human shield to save his own pathetic skin.
The Syndicate guard grabbed my vest, slamming me back against a shipping container. His gun came up toward my face. "Got you, bitch—"
I didn't think. Dante’s words rang in my head: Index finger on the frame... squeeze slowly.
I pulled the pistol from my pocket, jammed the barrel directly into the guard's stomach, and pulled the trigger twice.
BANG! BANG!
The guard gasped, his eyes rolling back as he slumped to the ground, blood pooling over his boots. I stood there, trembling, the smoking gun hot in my hand, staring at the man I had just shot. I had never hurt a soul in my life. Now, I was a killer.
Before I could sink into panic, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a firm, bulletproof chest.
"I've got you," Dante’s deep, furious voice barked into my ear.
He turned, firing his heavy handgun three times over my shoulder, taking down another attacker who was advancing on us. He shielded my body with his own, maneuvering us backward toward the safety of an armored transport.
"Michael... he pushed me..." I stammered, tears mixing with the rain on my face. "He betrayed me..."
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"I know," Dante growled, his dark eyes burning with an unholy fire as he looked at me. "I saw it. And he will pay for it. But right now, you are safe."
He shoved me into the back of the armored vehicle, slamming the door shut just as a hail of bullets peppered the reinforced steel.
