Chapter 9 - Pier 4
The abandoned warehouse at Pier 4 smelled of salt water, rust, and rotting wood. Rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof, creating a deafening, rhythmic roar.
Riley was tied to a wooden chair in the center of the vast, cavernous floor. Her lip was cut, her hair wild, but her dark eyes were fierce and unyielding as she glared at Victor Moretti—the gray-haired, ruthless head of the rival family—who sat nearby on an oil drum, twirling a heavy silver pistol.
Ten heavily armed men were positioned around the warehouse, their rifles trained on the high entry doors.
"He won't come, girl," Victor sneered, spitting onto the concrete. "Declan Hayes is a cripple sitting in a golden chair. He'll send his lieutenants, and my boys will pick them off one by one."
"You don't know him," Riley said, her voice rough but steady. "He's going to kill you, Victor. And I'm going to watch."
Victor laughed, a harsh, rasping sound. He raised his pistol, pointing the barrel right at her forehead. "Maybe I'll just end you now and save him the trip—"
The heavy iron doors of the warehouse didn't open.
They exploded outward in a massive cloud of fire and twisted metal as a three-ton armored SUV smashed through the barricade, crashing into two of Victor’s guards!
Gunfire instantly erupted, deafening and chaos-driven!
Gabe and thirty Hayes mercenaries poured through the breached wall, heavy submachine guns firing in coordinated, lethal bursts!
Victor leaped behind an oil drum, shouting frantic orders. "Kill him! Kill the girl!"
Through the smoke and flashing gunfire, a solitary figure stepped through the ruined doorway.
Declan Hayes walked into the warehouse.
He wasn't in a wheelchair. He was standing tall, dressed in a long black trench coat, a heavy steel-tipped cane in his left hand, a smoking revolver in his right. He moved with a slow, deliberate, terrifying limp—a dark titan rising from the grave to claim his vengeance.
"Declan!" Riley screamed.
A guard charged at Declan from behind a crate, raising an assault rifle.
Declan didn't even blink. He swung his steel-tipped cane, catching the man across the throat with a brutal, crushing blow, then raised his revolver and fired a single bullet into the man's chest without missing a beat!
"Moretti!" Declan’s voice echoed over the roaring gunfire, loud enough to shake the iron roof. "You took what's mine!"
Victor, terrified by the impossible sight of the crippled boss walking toward him like an unstoppable force of nature, stepped out from behind his cover, gripping his pistol with both hands, aiming directly at Declan’s chest!
BANG!
Victor fired!
The bullet struck Declan in the left shoulder. Declan stumbled back a step, his leg buckling beneath him, but he didn't fall. He gritted his teeth, forced his knee to lock, and raised his revolver.
"For Riley," Declan growled.
BANG.
The heavy bullet struck Victor Moretti right in the center of his forehead. The rival boss collapsed backward into the dark water of the pier, dead before he hit the ground.
The remaining Moretti guards dropped their weapons, throwing their hands into the air as Gabe’s men swept the warehouse, securing the perimeter.
Declan dropped his empty gun. He let his cane fall to the floor.
Ignoring the blood dripping from his shoulder, ignoring the agony screaming through his newly healed spinal nerves, he walked—step by agonizing, miraculous step—straight over to where Riley was tied.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, pulling a pocket knife from his belt and slicing through the ropes around her wrists.
"Riley," he gasped, his face pale, sweat pouring down his forehead. "Are you... are you okay?"
Riley threw her freed arms around his neck, weeping hysterically, pulling his blood-stained face into her chest. "You idiot! You jumped out of a moving car! You got shot!"
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"I walked," Declan whispered into her hair, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist, holding her like she was the only real thing in a world of dust and blood. "I walked to you, Riley."
"You walked," she sobbed, laughing through her tears, kissing his bleeding cheek, his brow, his lips. "You walked to me."
