Chapter 7 - The Reckoning on the Water
"Shoot them!" Harold Mercer screamed at his two remaining private bodyguards standing near the helm. "Kill them both!"
Before the guards could raise their pistols, Dominic moved with blinding speed.
Two rapid, concussive shots from his suppressed sidearm dropped both bodyguards to the floor, disarmed and neutralized before their fingers could touch the triggers.
Dominic stepped up to his brother, grabbing Harold by the throat with one hand, lifting him off his feet and slamming him hard against the mahogany bar.
"You targeted my son, Harold," Dominic whispered, his voice vibrating with lethal, terrifying stillness. "You sent a shooter into my home to murder a six-year-old child."
Harold choked, his eyes bulging with sheer terror. "Dominic... please! It was Julian’s idea! He promised me forty percent of the shipping lanes! I’m your brother!"
"You ceased to be my brother the second you looked at Caleb as a target," Dominic said softly.
He tossed Harold to the floor at Marco's feet. "Secure him in the transport boat. He will spend the rest of his natural life in a concrete cell beneath the Brooklyn docks."
I walked slowly across the salon, stopping two feet from Julian Vance.
Julian dropped to his knees on the wet parquet, reaching out with trembling, bloodless hands, looking up at me with pathetic, desperate pleading.
"Corinne... please," Julian wept. "I was following your father's business partners! They forced me to execute the explosion! I saved your trust documents! Look on the table—everything is intact!"
I looked down at the man who had murdered my family, who had forced me to scrub floors and hide in the dark for eight years.
I pulled the silver key from my neck, dropped it onto the center of the transfer documents, and met his eyes with cold, unyielding judgment.
"You didn't save anything, Julian," I whispered. "You merely kept it warm until I came home."
Marco stepped forward with steel transport chains, binding Julian’s wrists and ankles with sharp, final clicks.
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As the tactical team cleared the yacht, Dominic walked up beside me, wrapping his strong arm around my waist, pulling me securely against his side as the sunrise began to break over the ocean in brilliant, golden strokes of amber and sapphire.
"It's over, Corinne," Dominic murmured, kissing my temple. "The harbor is yours."
