Chapter 7 - The Hostage Trust
The basement erupted into chaos.
Men spun around, reaching into their jackets, but Maddox was faster. Two sharp, deafening cracks echoed through the subterranean room as Maddox put two rounds through the halogen lights, plunging the chamber into blinding darkness punctuated only by the hissing blue flame of the acetylene torch.
""Down!"" Maddox roared, throwing his massive body over Laurel as a barrage of gunfire splintered the concrete railing above their heads.
Ricochets whined off the ancient steel beams. Maddox returned fire with calm, lethal precision, firing three shots in rhythmic succession. Cries of pain echoed from the vault floor as two of Salvatore’s hired mercenaries collapsed, clutching their shoulders.
""Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"" a voice shrieked.
A spare work light flickered on. Uncle Charles was on his knees, weeping, while Salvatore Bellanti stood with his arm locked around Charles’s throat, holding a revolver to his co-conspirator's temple. The two remaining gunmen had retreated behind the heavy steel machinery.
""Stand down, Maddox!"" Salvatore wheezed, his face twisted in malicious triumph. ""Or I blow your new bride’s uncle into the harbor! Drop your weapons!""
Maddox didn't lower his gun. His sights remained locked directly between Salvatore’s eyes. ""He’s nothing to me, Salvatore. Shoot him. It saves me the trouble of paying his prison commissary.""
""Maddox!"" Laurel gasped under her breath.
""Shut up, Laurel,"" Maddox hissed without moving a muscle. ""He bluffs.""
""I don't bluff, nephew!"" Salvatore screamed, cocking the hammer. ""You took my docks! You turned my family into corporate paper-pushers! You think you can parade this girl around like a trophy and steal Pier 14 out from under me? Her grandfather died a broke, stubborn fool, and you're going to die right beside him!""
""Uncle Charles,"" Laurel called out, stepping out from behind Maddox's protective frame despite Maddox's furious growl. ""Look at me!""
Charles Whitaker looked up, his face covered in sweat and tears of absolute terror. ""Laurel... I’m sorry... he said he’d pay off my debts... he said no one would get hurt...""
""He had Finch murdered, Charles!"" Laurel yelled, her voice ringing off the stone walls. ""He’s going to kill you the second that vault opens! You are an accessory to murder, but if you don't fight back right now, you die on this concrete floor!""
Charles’s eyes widened with the realization of a cornered animal. In a sudden, desperate burst of adrenaline, the older man threw his head back, smashing his skull directly into Salvatore’s nose.
Cartilage crunched. Salvatore howled in agony, his shot going wild into the ceiling.
""Move!"" Maddox shouted.
In a fraction of a second, Maddox lunged down the stairs. The two remaining gunmen tried to raise their rifles, but Maddox fired twice, neutralizing them before they could squeeze a trigger. He slammed into Salvatore like a freight train, tearing the revolver from the old man's hand and pinning him against the steel vault with an arm across his throat.
The basement went dead silent, save for the hissing torch and Charles’s pathetic sobbing on the floor.
Maddox pressed Salvatore harder against the cold steel, the old man’s boots dangling inches off the ground. Maddox’s face was devoid of humanity, cold as the winter sea outside. ""Give me one reason why I shouldn't throw you off this pier right now, Salvatore.""
""Do it..."" Salvatore sputtered, spitting blood. ""The cops... they’re already on their way... you’re finished...""
May you like
""No,"" Laurel’s clear voice cut through the violence. She walked down the concrete steps, her small gun lowered at her side. ""He doesn't get to die a martyr for the mob. He spends the rest of his miserable life in a federal penitentiary for murder, fraud, and treason.""
Maddox looked back at her. The fury in his eyes slowly receded, replaced by an intense, profound respect. Slowly, he released his grip, letting his uncle crumple into a pathetic heap on the floor.
