Chapter 8 - The Queen's Rise
The massacre lasted exactly six minutes.
Arthur moved through the warehouse with a terrifying, surgical precision.
He did not take cover.
He walked straight toward the center of the room, cutting down anyone who raised a weapon.
His men flanked him, a synchronized wall of death that overwhelmed the Falcone soldiers completely.
Don Falcone tried to run, abandoning his men to save his own life.
Arthur did not even look at him.
He fired a single burst, shattering Falcone’s kneecaps and sending the rival boss screaming to the concrete.
The gunfire eventually ceased, replaced by the groans of dying men and the hiss of steam from the ruined truck.
Arthur dropped his rifle.
He ran the remaining distance, dropping to his knees in front of Clara’s chair.
He pulled a combat knife and slashed the thick plastic ties binding her wrists and ankles.
The moment she was free, Clara threw herself into his chest.
Arthur wrapped his massive arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
He was breathing heavily, his entire body trembling with the adrenaline of the slaughter.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, his hands frantically checking her face, stopping on the bruising where the guard had struck her.
“I am fine,” she choked out, gripping the tactical vest covering his chest.
Arthur’s eyes darkened when he saw the blood on her lip.
He turned slowly, looking at the surviving Falcone guards who were kneeling on the floor, surrounded by his men.
“Which one of you touched her?” Arthur asked.
His voice was a lethal whisper that carried across the quiet warehouse.
Nobody answered.
Arthur stood up, pulling his sidearm.
“I will ask one more time.”
A terrified soldier pointed a shaking finger at the man who had struck Clara.
Arthur walked over and put a bullet through the man’s head without a second of hesitation.
He turned back to his men.
“Burn this place to the ground.”
“Leave no survivors.”
He walked back to Clara, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.
He carried her out of the burning warehouse, walking past his hardened soldiers.
Every single man bowed his head slightly as they passed.
They had seen what Arthur was willing to do for her.
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She was no longer a maid, and she was no longer a secret.
She was their undisputed queen.
