Chapter 9 - The Siege of the Harbor"Bravo, Roland. Truly, I should have known a cockroach of your caliber wouldn't drown so easily," Curtis sneered, walking forward with a squad of a dozen armed mercenaries forming a wall of tactical steel behind him.
Silas scrambled backward, crawling toward Curtis's feet. "I brought him here, Mr. Hale! Just like we agreed! Spare me!"
Curtis glanced down with utter disgust, drawing a sleek pistol and casually firing a single shot directly into Silas’s chest. Silas collapsed into the snow, his eyes wide with shock as crimson stained the white ground.
"I have no use for traitors," Curtis said coldly, blowing the smoke from his gun barrel. He turned his attention back to Roland, who stood unfazed beside Clara, with Goliath growling low at his side.
"And you, girl," Curtis sneered, eyeing Clara. "You should have minded your own business at the diner. Now you die alongside a dead man."
"You talk too much, Curtis," Roland replied, his voice echoing across the silent harbor.
"Kill them!" Curtis roared, raising his hand to signal the squad.
Before the mercenaries could raise their rifles, a deafening roar tore through the night sky. From behind the shipping containers, three heavy diesel trucks slammed through the perimeter fence, their high-beams blinding Curtis’s men.
Out poured a dozen loyal harbor veterans—men whom Roland had personally saved and sworn oaths with years ago. They opened fire with synchronized precision, instantly taking out Curtis’s front line in a hail of suppressing fire.
"It’s a trap!" a mercenary screamed as chaos erupted across the yard.
Roland didn't wait. He drew his pistol, firing two precise shots that shattered the windshield of Curtis's car. Clara grabbed a heavy iron pipe from the ground, swinging it with fierce precision to disarm a thug who lunged toward her. Goliath charged into the fray like a furry tank, scattering mercenaries in sheer terror.
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Curtis, realizing the tables had turned in a heartbeat, turned and sprinted toward his remaining vehicle, desperate to escape.
"You're not going anywhere, Curtis," Roland growled, breaking into a relentless pursuit across the ice.
