Chapter 6: The Docks
Chapter 6: The Docks
The rain was pouring in heavy, relentless sheets as Damian’s SUV pulled up to the abandoned shipping yard. The smell of salt and rusting metal hung thick in the air.
"Stay close," Damian ordered, handing me a sleek, compact flashlight. His own hand rested casually on the grip of a firearm holstered at his waist.
We slipped through the side entrance of the warehouse. The space was massive, filled with stacked shipping containers and shadows. In the center of the room, a single halogen work light illuminated a makeshift office. There, pacing frantically and shouting into a burner phone, was Victor.
He looked entirely unhinged. The sleek, arrogant billionaire was gone. His clothes were disheveled, his bruised face swollen and purple from Damian’s punch.
"I don't care how much it costs, get me a plane!" Victor screamed into the phone. "Vance is going to kill me, and if he doesn't, the feds will!"
Damian stepped out of the shadows, the sound of his heavy boots echoing off the concrete. "I think you're overestimating my desire to get my hands dirty again, Victor."
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Victor dropped the phone, spinning around. When his wild eyes landed on me, standing tall and unbothered beside Damian, his expression twisted into pure hatred.
"You," he hissed, taking a step toward me. "You ruined my life."
