Chapter 8 - Sylvia’s Final Betrayal
Julian Vance’s composure shattered. ""Kill him!"" he roared, pointing his cigar at Victor. ""Shoot him now!""
Before a single mercenary could squeeze a trigger, the roof skylights above shattered into a thousand glittering shards.
Tear gas canisters rained down onto the concrete floor, hissing thick, blinding white smoke. Red laser dots danced through the gloom as federal tactical teams, accompanied by Victor’s elite harbor enforcers, breached from the darkness.
""Federal agents! Drop your weapons! Drop them now!""
Chaos erupted. Gunfire clattered against the corrugated walls, but the mercenaries were disoriented, trapped in the smoke. Several dropped their rifles immediately, throwing their hands into the air as tactical officers pinned them to the ground.
Julian Vance lunged toward his SUV, but Marco descended from the catwalk stairs like an avenging angel, tackling the older man into the freezing slush and disarming him with brutal efficiency.
Sylvia, coughing and screaming in rage through the smoke, pulled a small silver revolver from her green coat. She didn't aim at the federal agents. She aimed directly at the catwalk where Nora was hiding.
""If I lose everything, you don't get them either!"" Sylvia shrieked.
She raised the barrel toward the upper platform.
Victor didn't think. He didn't calculate angles or odds. He surged forward across the wet concrete, throwing his body directly into Sylvia’s path just as the gunshot cracked through the warehouse.
The bullet struck Victor in the left shoulder, the impact spinning him around. Pain exploded white-hot across his chest, but he didn't falter. He closed the distance, grabbed Sylvia’s wrist, and twisted until the silver revolver clattered uselessly to the floor.
Federal officers swarmed them, pinning Sylvia to the concrete.
""Get your hands off me!"" Sylvia screamed, her makeup ruined by tears and black soot. ""Do you know who I am? Victor, you ruined us! You ruined everything!""
Victor stood over her, his hand clutching his bleeding shoulder, blood seeping through his white dress shirt.
""You never mattered, Sylvia,"" Victor said coldly, looking down at her with pure disgust. ""You were just noise.""
He turned away as the officers dragged Sylvia and her father toward the waiting prisoner transport vans.
Up on the catwalk, Nora watched Victor sway on his feet. The sight of his blood dripping onto the snow-dusted floor shattered the remaining ice around her heart.
Handing the bundled twins safely to a certified female paramedic who had just rushed in with the tactical squad, Nora ran down the iron stairs, her boots clattering wildly.
""Victor!"" she cried out.
Victor turned just in time to catch her as she threw her arms around him, burying her face into his uninjured shoulder.
""You're hit,"" she sobbed, feeling the warm, sticky blood beneath his shirt. ""You fool, why did you do that?""
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Victor pulled her against his chest, wrapping his good arm around her waist and burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deeply—not cherry blossoms, not perfume, but the clean, sweet scent of lavender and the woman who held his life in her hands.
""Because,"" Victor whispered, his voice trembling with sheer relief, ""a man who loses his kingdom can build another one. But a man who loses his family has nothing left to live for.""
