Chapter 5 - The Price of BloodThe digital clock on the dashboard of Bennett’s armored Mercedes glowed 11:45 PM.
The old municipal dry docks on the industrial waterfront were a graveyard of rusted steel hulls, rotting wooden piers, and pitch-black shadows. It was territory that belonged to no one, which made it the perfect slaughterhouse.
Bennett stepped out of the car into the biting sea wind, his black overcoat billowing around his knees. In his left hand, he carried a heavy steel briefcase containing the encrypted shipping ledger—the key to his entire financial empire. In his right hand, concealed inside his coat pocket, his fingers rested firmly on the grip of a fully loaded automatic pistol.
“Hale!”
A harsh voice echoed from the top of a rusted crane tower overlooking the pier.
Bennett looked up. Standing on the metal catwalk, illuminated by the harsh glare of a single overhead floodlight, was Viktor Sterling. A cigar glowed red between his teeth, and beside him stood two armed thugs holding Eleanor’s motorized wheelchair.
And right beside her, hands bound behind her back with thick plastic ties, was Clara.
Her face was pale, a small bruise darkening her left cheek where she had clearly been struck, but her eyes were fierce and unyielding as she locked onto Bennett.
“You brought the ledger?” Sterling shouted down, leaning over the railing.
“I brought it,” Bennett called back, his voice cutting through the wind like a razor blade. “Let them go, Sterling. This is between you and me.”
Sterling laughed, a grating, obnoxious sound. “Oh, it is between us, Bennett. For ten years you’ve treated this city like your personal kingdom. You thought you were untouchable because you had money. But money doesn't stop a bullet.”
Sterling gestured to one of his thugs. “Bring the old woman and the girl to the edge of the platform.”
“Don't you dare touch them!” Bennett stepped forward, raising the briefcase. “Take the ledger! Let them go!”
“Drop the case on the ground and kick it toward the crane,” Sterling ordered.
Bennett hesitated, calculating angles, wind speed, and distance. If he dropped the case, he was giving away his economic leverage. But if he didn't, Eleanor and Clara would be dropped into the freezing black waters of the harbor below before he could clear the distance to the ladder.
He couldn't risk their lives. Not his mother’s. And, to his sudden, terrifying realization, not Clara’s either.
Bennett lowered the steel briefcase and let it drop heavily onto the concrete pier. With his foot, he kicked it forward toward the base of the crane tower.
Sterling grinned greedily, signaling to his men. “Grab it.”
One of the thugs stepped forward, lowering his rifle to pick up the case.
That was the exact millisecond Bennett moved.
With blinding speed, Bennett drew his pistol from his coat pocket and fired three shots through the dark.
Crack-crack-crack.
The thug picking up the briefcase dropped instantly, a bullet through his chest.
Chaos erupted on the catwalk. Sterling roared in fury, grabbing Clara by the hair and pulling her toward the edge of the railing, pressing the barrel of a pistol against her temple.
“Drop your weapon, Hale, or I scatter her brains across the concrete right now!” Sterling screamed, spittle flying from his lips.
Bennett froze, his finger tightening convulsively on the trigger of his own gun. The sights were aligned with Sterling’s forehead. A single squeeze and Sterling would be dead.
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But Clara was right in the line of fire. One twitch, one gust of wind, and the bullet would hit her.
For the first time in his life, the ruthless mafia boss was paralyzed by fear. Not fear for himself—fear of losing the only person who had brought light back into his decaying world.
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