Chapter 13 - Captured by the Ghost of the Harbor
From the rafters above, Moretti's chief enforcer—a hulking mercenary known only as 'The Anchor'—dropped onto the platform, swinging a massive steel pipe directly toward Gabriel's blind spot.
"Gabriel, look out!" I screamed, lunging forward from the catwalk stairs.
I didn't think. I didn't calculate the risk. I grabbed an industrial high-pressure steam lever on the wall and pulled it down with all my body weight.
A roaring jet of scalding 300-degree steam blasted directly into the enforcer's path, blinding him and sending him stumbling backward off the edge of the catwalk. He crashed twenty feet down into the empty concrete holding tank below, knocked completely unconscious.
The sudden blast of steam threw me off balance. I tripped over a severed cable, tumbling toward the edge of the elevated platform.
"Elena!"
Gabriel lunged, catching my wrist just as my feet slipped into empty air.
For a terrifying second, I hung suspended over the concrete drop, the sound of battle roaring around us.
Gabriel's wounded shoulder strained, the muscles in his arm bulging as he held my entire weight with one hand. Pain flared across his features, but his grip never loosened by a millimeter.
"I’ve got you," he grunted through clenched teeth. "Look at me, Elena! I’ve got you!"
With a tremendous heave of sheer willpower, Gabriel pulled me up over the railing and into his arms, collapsing onto the metal catwalk with me pressed tightly against his chest.
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"Are you alright?" he breathed, his hands checking my face, my arms, my neck. "Tell me you're unhurt."
"I'm alright," I gasped, burying my face in his neck, feeling his heart pounding furiously against mine. "We did it. Gabriel, we did it."
