Chapter 8 - THE STORM AT PIER 42
Before the Russian mobsters could pull their triggers, the lights inside the warehouse went completely dark.
High above in the rafters, Leo’s snipers had shot out the main power transformers.
Massive gunfire erupted in the darkness, muzzle flashes illuminating the space like violent strobe lights. Panicked shouts in Russian echoed off the metal walls as Victor’s men breached the windows, dropping smoke canisters onto the floor.
In the middle of the chaos, Victor moved like a ghost.
Drawing his weapons, he fired three precise shots into the darkness. Three Russian mobsters collapsed before they even realized where the shots came from. Victor ducked under a burst of automatic fire, rolled behind a heavy shipping crate, and reemerged right next to Alina’s chair.
"Victor!" she gasped.
"Hold still," he murmured calmly amidst the deafening noise of gunfire around them.
He drew a small silver blade from his pocket and sliced through the thick ropes binding her wrists and ankles with a single smooth motion.
Alina collapsed into his arms, shaking violently. Victor pulled her close, wrapping his heavy overcoat around her shoulders to shield her.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his hands gently framing her face in the dark, checking for injuries.
"I'm okay," she sobbed, holding onto his lapels tightly. "He hit me, but I'm okay."
When Victor heard that Marcus had laid a hand on her, his dark eyes flashed with an apocalyptic fury.
He helped Alina behind a reinforced steel container. "Stay here. Do not move until I come back for you."
"Victor, be careful!"
Victor didn't reply. He turned back into the smoke-filled warehouse, where the remaining Russian mobsters were being systematically taken down by Leo's team.
Up on the platform, Marcus was scrambling frantically toward a rear emergency exit, his gun shaking in his hand. He was terrified; his grand plan had turned into a slaughterhouse in less than two minutes.
He reached the heavy metal door, but before he could push it open, a tall shadow stepped out from the smoke, blocking his path.
Victor stood there, his custom handgun raised, pointing directly at Marcus's forehead.
"Victor... please!" Marcus wept, dropping his gun onto the metal grate floor, dropping to his knees just like Carl had done weeks ago. "We're family! Blood! You can't kill your own blood!"
"Family doesn't sell out family," Victor said, his voice flat, completely devoid of mercy. "And family doesn't hurt innocent women."
"I was desperate! They promised me the waterfront!" Marcus sobbed, reaching out his hands in supplication. "Give me a second chance! I'll leave the country! I'll never come back!"
Victor lowered his gun slightly.
Marcus let out a subtle sigh of relief, thinking he had appealed to his cousin's sense of loyalty. But Victor didn't put the gun away. He stepped closer, his boots heavy on the metal floor.
"You're right, Marcus," Victor said softly. "I won't kill my own blood tonight."
He raised his left hand, signaling Leo, who stepped out of the shadows behind Marcus.
"Take him to the remote compound in the mountains," Victor ordered coldly. "Strip him of his title, his money, and his name. He will live out the rest of his miserable life under guard, doing hard labor. He will never see the light of civilization again."
"No! No! Kill me instead! Victor, please!" Marcus screamed as Leo's men grabbed his arms and dragged him kicking and screaming into the dark night.
Victor turned his back on his cousin's cries and walked back toward the steel container where Alina was waiting.
He found her sitting on an wooden crate, clutching his overcoat around herself. When she saw him walk out of the smoke unharmed, tears of pure relief flooded her eyes.
Victor knelt down in front of her, wiping a streak of dirt off her cheek with his thumb.
"It's over, Alina," he whispered softly. "You're safe now."
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Alina threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "Thank you," she wept softly. "Thank you for coming for me."
Victor wrapped his powerful arms around her, holding her tight against his chest, promising himself that he would never let anyone put fear in her eyes ever again.
