Chapter 11 - Blood on the Docks
Flashbang grenades illuminated the darkness like lightning.
Gabriel Mercer descended from the rafters on tactical lines, moving like a phantom of death. In his hands, twin suppressed pistols fired with surgical precision. Pike’s mercenaries fell before they could even raise their rifles.
Vance Sterling screamed and tried to run toward a speedboat at the dock, but Elias Reed intercepted him, driving him into the concrete and cuffing his hands.
Warren Pike grabbed Claire, holding a gun to her temple. “Back off, Mercer! One step and I blow her head off!”
Gabriel stepped through the smoke. His suit was immaculate, his eyes glowing with murderous resolve. He dropped his weapons onto the ground.
“Let her go, Pike,” Gabriel said calmly. “Your fight is with me.”
“You think you’re a god?!” Pike shrieked.
In that split second, Claire remembered her father’s advice: Never remain passive when the predator hesitates.
Claire slammed the heel of her shoe violently into Pike’s instep and threw her head backward into his nose. Pike howled in pain, stumbling back.
In a fraction of a second, Gabriel closed the distance. With brutal martial mastery, he shattered Pike’s arm, disarmed the weapon, and hurled the syndicate boss over the railing into the churning, icy waters of the harbor below.
Gabriel turned immediately and dropped to his knees before Claire, frantically cutting her ropes.
“Claire! Are you hurt? Look at me!” His hands were shaking as he cupped her face.
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Claire threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. “I knew you would come.”
“Always,” Gabriel swore, kissing her hair, her forehead, her lips. “I will never let anyone touch you again.”
