Chapter 9 - The Final ReckoningThe hitmen stepped out of the shadows onto the catwalker, raising their assault rifles to line up their sights on the beam of Julian’s flashlight.
"End of the line, Voss!" the lead hitman snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Before the first round could leave the barrel, Julian didn't fire his gun. Instead, he reached down and smashed the heavy glass of an old, emergency fire-alarm box mounted directly to the concrete pillar beside him, slamming his elbow hard against the master circuit breaker lever marked HIGH VOLTAGE - AUXILIARY GRID.
Sparks showered down like a localized meteor storm.
The entire abandoned terminal—wired decades ago into the city’s old subterranean power grid—roared back to life with a violent, deafening electrical hum. Overhead, thousands of feet of exposed, uninsulated copper wiring short-circuited in a massive cascade of blue-white lightning, discharging a blinding shockwave of electricity through the wet, iron catwalk grating.
The two hitmen screamed as the electrical surge hit their boots, dropping their weapons instantly as their nervous systems locked up. They collapsed hard onto the metal grating, unconscious before they even hit the floor.
Silence rushed back into the terminal, broken only by the crackle of dying electrical arcs and the heavy breathing of the mastiff.
Julian lowered his hand, his shoulder throbbing with pain, and turned to look at Nora. The blue-white glow of the electrical discharge washed over her face, highlighting every scar, every line of endurance, and the impossible beauty of her ruined amber eyes.
"The circuit breakers," Julian breathed, staring at her in awe. "You knew they were still wired to the old city grid."
"I spent three years sleeping against that concrete pillar, Julian," Nora said softly, stepping closer to him until she could feel the heat radiating from his chest. "I learned every wire, every pipe, and every heartbeat in this building."
Suddenly, the heavy metal doors at the far end of the terminal burst open. A squad of a dozen more men poured into the lower level, led by Vince Moretti himself—an old, silver-haired monster in a tailored cashmere coat, holding a heavy revolver in his trembling hand.
"Voss!" Moretti roared, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "You can't hide in this rat hole forever! Burn it down! Burn the whole damn terminal to the ground!"
Julian looked down at the lower level, then back at Nora. He pulled his remaining spare magazine from his pocket, slapped it into his Sig Sauer, and checked his weapon. He was out of options, out of time, and surrounded by an army.
Except for one thing.
May you like
Nora reached out, her gloved hand finding Julian’s cheek. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, lingering on the skin right over his eyes—the very eyes she had given him ten years ago.
"You gave me back my sight in the dark, Julian," she whispered, a fierce, triumphant smile touching her lips. "Now... let me show you how to finish the war."
