Chapter 9 - Fire on the River
Pier 42 was an abandoned grain terminal on the south bank of the Chicago River—a rusting hulk of corrugated steel and rotten timber.
Moretti sat in a folding chair near the water’s edge, nursing a glass of cheap whiskey, surrounded by twelve heavily armed mercenaries.
Natalie and Ava were kept tied to wooden chairs in the center of the vast, cavernous warehouse. Ava had stopped screaming; she was humming softly, her eyes locked on Natalie’s face, repeating the steady, calming breathing exercises Natalie had taught her over the months.
"You're doing so well, Ava," Natalie whispered, her own wrist bleeding from the tight plastic ties. "Just look at me. Only at me."
"Shut up!" one of Moretti's men yelled, swinging his rifle butt near Natalie's face.
"Touch her again and you won't live to see the sunset," a voice boomed from the rafters above.
The warehouse doors blew inward with a deafening blast of flashbang grenades and explosive charges.
Smoke swept through the room.
Before Moretti’s men could fire a single shot, red laser dots covered their chests.
DeLuca tactical operators descended from the roof beams on ropes, while Damian himself walked through the destroyed front doors, holding a sleek black tactical rifle.
The firefight was over in less than forty seconds.
Damian’s men moved with terrifying, military precision, neutralizing every single mercenary before they could even raise their weapons.
Vincent Moretti tried to run toward a side exit, but Marco—bleeding from a head wound from the car crash—stepped out of the shadows and slammed a heavy steel pipe across Moretti’s knees, bringing the crime boss crashing to the concrete floor screaming in pain.
Damian didn't even look at Moretti.
He threw his weapon to Marco, sprinted across the warehouse floor, and dropped to his knees before Natalie and Ava.
With a swift flick of his combat knife, he severed the zip-ties around Natalie's wrists and pulled both of them into a fierce, desperate embrace.
"I've got you," Damian choked out, his voice breaking as he pressed his face against Ava’s neck and wrapped his arms tightly around Natalie’s waist. "I've got you. You're safe. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."
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Natalie held him tightly, her fingers digging into his tactical vest, tears finally spilling over her cheeks. "You came."
"I will always come for you," Damian whispered fiercely. "Always."
