Chapter 8 - The Final StandThe rain was coming down in sheets now, turning the abandoned pier into a slick, treacherous obstacle course of rusted iron and crashing waves.
Claire clutched Mia tightly against her chest, the little girl’s face buried in her coat, sleeping through the chaos of the night. Kate followed closely behind, holding a waterproof duffel bag filled with passports, cash, and medical supplies.
"Doctor Callahan!" a voice echoed through the driving rain.
Claire stopped dead in her tracks at the end of the wooden pier.
Standing beside the idling speedboat was Agent Marcus Vance—no, Marcus Moretti—his tailored coat soaked through, his right arm dangling uselessly in a makeshift sling, and a smoking Glock gripped firmly in his left hand.
"End of the line," Vance sneered, blood dripping from his chin where he had taken a hit during the raid. "You really thought you could outsmart the Department of Justice, Claire? You're a brilliant surgeon, but you're hopelessly out of your depth."
"You're not FBI," Claire said, her voice dead calm as she stepped back, shielding Mia with her entire body. "You're just another criminal with a federal badge."
Vance laughed, a harsh, maniacal sound over the roar of the waves. "Family business, Doctor. Dante wanted to play saint and walk away from billions. You can't just retire from the Moretti syndicate. Now... hand over the child, and get on the boat. Or I swear to God, I'll put a bullet through your little girl's favorite imaginary horse."
Before Vance could pull the trigger, a sharp click echoed from the shadows behind him.
"Drop the weapon, Marcus."
Vance froze.
Dante stepped out from behind a rusted shipping container, his own pistol leveled with chilling, absolute precision directly at Vance’s chest. He was pale, blood soaking visibly through the white gauze of his shoulder, but his aim didn't waver by a single millimeter.
"Dante," Vance hissed, slowly turning his head without lowering his gun. "You stubborn bastard. You should have stayed in the dirt."
"I tried," Dante said quietly, his eyes dark and dead. "Then you threatened my daughter."
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"You think you win?" Vance sneer widened, his finger tightening on the trigger. "If you kill me, federal snipers have this entire pier zeroed in. You'll both die here."
"Maybe," Dante said, a faint, cold smile touching his lips. "But you'll go first."
