Chapter 4 - The Fire in the Glass Tower
"Two. Three."
Cormac swung wide around the filing cabinet, his Glock barking twice into the dust-choked air. The mercenary on the right took a double tap to the chest; the plates of his body armor absorbed the impact, but the kinetic force knocked him off balance. Cormac closed the distance in two lunging strides, kicked the barrel of the man's weapon toward the floor, and drove an elbow straight into his temple, following up with a clean shot under the jaw.
To his left, Quinn didn't rely on brute force. She used the environment with terrifying efficiency. She threw a heavy metal hole puncher straight into the second shooter's face, breaking his nose. As his hands flew up in shock, she stepped inside his guard, drove the heel of her palm into his throat, twisted his gun arm until the joint popped, and fired his own weapon into his gut. The man crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.
"Rory! Move!" Cormac roared.
The kid didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled out from under the furniture like a frantic crab, sprinting on all fours toward the service hallway.
A deafening blast shattered the wall behind them. Declan’s shotgun obliterated a plate-glass partition, raining razor-sharp shards over Cormac’s shoulders. Declan stood at the end of the hall, his face purple with rage, pumping another shell into the chamber.
"You ungrateful little bastard!" Declan snarled at Cormac. "I built this empire while your father sat behind a desk playing gentleman! You think you can turn us into a clean corporate shipping firm? We are killers, Cormac! We take what we want!"
Declan leveled the barrel straight at Cormac’s head. Cormac raised his gun, but his slide locked back—empty.
Before Declan could pull the trigger, Quinn threw herself across Cormac’s line of sight, shoving him backward into the doorway of the server room. The shotgun roared. The blast missed Cormac by inches, tearing into the steel frame, but a spray of buckshot grazed Quinn’s right shoulder.
She let out a sharp hiss of pain as blood instantly blossomed across the pristine white sleeve of her blouse.
"Quinn!" Cormac lunged forward, catching her before she hit the floor.
Fury—red, blind, and ancient—erupted through Cormac’s veins. He dropped his empty pistol, drew a heavy combat blade from his boot, and charged through the smoke. Declan tried to pump another round into the chamber, but Cormac was already on him.
Cormac slammed his entire body weight into his uncle, smashing Declan against the structural glass window overlooking Boston Harbor. The reinforced pane cracked in a spiderweb pattern beneath the impact. Cormac grabbed the barrel of the shotgun, wrenched it from Declan’s grip, and drove the butt of the weapon hard into the older man's jaw. Bone cracked. Declan stumbled backward, spitting blood and teeth.
"You touched my father's sister," Cormac snarled, his voice vibrating with absolute lethality. "You put scars on that girl's back. And you brought dogs into my house."
Cormac drove his fist into Declan’s solar plexus, dropping him to his knees. He pressed the cold steel of the shotgun barrel under Declan’s chin.
"Wait... Cormac, wait..." Declan choked out, his eyes wide with genuine terror as he looked into the cold, pitiless gaze of his brother's son. "You don't know the whole story... Silas made me do it... Silas ordered the hit on Maureen!"
"I know my father was a bastard," Cormac said softly. "But you enjoyed it."
"Cormac! Don't!" Quinn’s voice cut through the haze of violence.
Cormac hesitated, his finger tense on the trigger. He looked over his shoulder. Quinn was standing in the doorway, clutching her bleeding shoulder with one hand. Blood dripped between her pale fingers, staining her skirt, but her face was calm.
"If you kill him now, the Bratva containers at Pier 4 detonate," Quinn said, breathing hard. "He has the release codes in his encrypted satellite phone. The port authority will shut down the entire harbor. If we blow the docks, the federal marshals will dismantle Sheridan Logistics by morning."
Declan offered a bloody, smug grin. "The girl knows... she knows I hold the deadman's switch..."
Cormac looked from Declan to Quinn. He slowly lowered the shotgun.
"Rory," Cormac commanded without looking back.
"Y-yes, boss?" Rory peeked around the corner, trembling.
"Get the heavy zip-ties from the storage closet. Tie my uncle to the radiator. If he makes a sound, shoot him in the foot." Cormac tossed his backup magazine to the kid. "Can you handle that?"
"Yes, Mr. Sheridan," Rory squeaked, determination finally flickering in his wide eyes.
Cormac walked back toward Quinn. Without asking for permission, he gently slid his arm around her uninjured waist, supporting her weight. "Come on. We're going to my penthouse. We have a medic on retainer, and we have an empire to purge."
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Quinn looked up at him, her gray eyes searching his dark, intense face. For the first time, a small, genuine breath of relief slipped past her lips. "You ruined another shirt, Mr. Sheridan."
"I'll buy you a factory of them," Cormac said softly, leading her to the private elevator.
