Chapter 3 - THE UNEXPECTED SAVIORWe were cornered. One of the gunmen was ten feet away, his light sweeping across the floor.
Suddenly, the warehouse lights flickered and died. A massive roar erupted from the front of the loading dock. A black SUV smashed through the sliding metal gate, its high beams blinding the gunmen.
The gunmen scrambled for cover, but they didn't have time. A team of men—not police, but private, tactical specialists—poured out of the vehicle. It was a surgical strike. In thirty seconds, the three men in suits were incapacitated.
The driver of the SUV stepped out. He was older, wearing a tailored coat, his face a map of controlled fury. He looked at the scene, his eyes landing on me and Elena.
His knees hit the concrete floor instantly.
"Elena," the man choked out, his voice cracking. He didn't look at his men. He didn't look at the carnage. He reached for her with hands that were shaking so hard I was afraid he’d drop her.
Elena let out a sob and lunged into his arms.
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"Boss," one of the tactical men said, approaching him. "The warehouse is secure. The traitors have been neutralized."
I stood there, still clutching the pry bar, realizing exactly who I had just saved. This wasn't the police. This was Silas Vane—the man whose name was whispered in hushed tones in every precinct in the city. The King of the Harbor.
