Chapter 8 - The Cleansing of the Docks
The pier erupted into absolute, violent chaos.
Ronan lunged forward, drawing his pistol and firing with lethal, military precision. The sound of gunfire shattered the night, flashes of muzzle light illuminating the rain-soaked concrete.
Mercenaries scrambled for cover behind shipping crates, but Ronan’s men moved like an disciplined army, flushing out the insurgents, sweeping the docks with ruthless efficiency.
High on the catwalk, Ivy didn't hide. She guided the SWAT officers toward the side exits, pointing out the escape routes Victor’s men were trying to use.
Below, Victor attempted to roll his wheelchair toward a motorboat tied to the pier edge.
Ronan stepped out of the smoke, blocking the path.
He stood over his uncle, the rain washing the gunpowder residue from his face, his weapon lowered.
"It’s over, Victor," Ronan said quietly.
Victor stared up at his nephew, panting, coughing blood into his hand. "You... you soft bastard... you sacrificed the syndicate for... for a servant girl..."
"I didn't sacrifice anything," Ronan said, his eyes cold and clean. "I built something real. Something you were too small, too bitter, and too cruel to ever understand."
Federal agents swarmed the pier, taking Victor and the surviving mercenaries into custody, securing the perimeter with flashing red and blue lights.
Ronan turned away from his uncle, ignoring the shouting, the sirens, and the rain. He walked toward the stairs leading up to the catwalk.
Ivy was coming down the metal steps, her hair wet from the rain, her lavender dress soaked, but her face radiant with relief.
When she reached the bottom step, her foot slipped on the wet steel.
Ronan lunged forward, catching her in his arms before she could hit the ground.
He pulled her flush against his chest, holding her so tightly she could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart through his wet coat.
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"You came to Pier 14," Ronan whispered into her wet hair, his voice shaking with a rare, desperate emotion. "You crazy, brilliant woman... you could have been killed."
"I told you, Ronan," Ivy whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, looking up into his dark, beautiful eyes. "Nobody hurts what belongs to this house."
