Chapter 9 - The Ashes of the Past
As the enforcers raised their weapons, Maya looked down at her feet. Resting against the pallet was a heavy, industrial flare gun used for signaling ships in the harbor.
She didn't hesitate. She picked up the heavy plastic weapon, aimed it through the broken window directly at a stack of exposed chemical drums marked FLAMMABLE positioned right behind Marcone’s men, and pulled the trigger.
A blinding, brilliant ball of red fire erupted from the barrel, streaking through the dark warehouse and smashing squarely into the drums.
The resulting explosion was spectacular. A wall of white-hot flame tore through the center of the room, throwing Marcone’s enforcers through the air and creating a barrier of fire between Damian and his attackers.
In the chaos, Damian lunged from behind the forklift. He fired three precise shots, neutralizing the remaining threats before they could recover from the blast.
Marcus burst through the side doors a second later, securing Don Marcone, who was weeping on his knees, his expensive jacket scorched and ruined.
Damian stood in the center of the burning warehouse, his chest heaving, his dark eyes sweeping the room until they found Maya standing by the broken window, the smoking flare gun still held in her trembling hands.
He walked toward her, ignoring the flames, ignoring his bleeding shoulder, until he was standing close enough to touch her. He reached out, his bloody hand cupping her jaw with an unbelievable, heartbreaking gentleness.
"I told you to stay in the bunker," he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.
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"And I told you I don't follow your rules, Damian," Maya said, tears finally spilling down her cheeks as she dropped the flare gun and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You're a terrible boss."
"The worst," he agreed, his lips finding hers amid the smoke and the falling ash of his enemies' empire.
