Chapter 7 - The Reckoning on the Docks
The metallic click of the revolver echoed over the black water of the river. Evelyn braced herself, refusing to give Grant the satisfaction of begging. She stared into his bloodshot eyes with pure defiance.
“Go ahead, Grant,” she said coldly. “Pull the trigger. But you’ll never outrun Cole. He spent five years tearing down your world, and he will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”
Grant’s face twisted with rage. “Then I’ll leave him a corpse to remember me by!”
Before Grant’s finger could squeeze the trigger, the piercing shriek of tearing rubber shattered the fog. A pair of blinding LED high beams erupted from behind a row of shipping containers.
A heavy, reinforced SUV roared down the length of the pier at sixty miles an hour, heading directly for Grant and his men.
“What the hell?!” one of the enforcers screamed, diving out of the way.
Grant stumbled backward in panic, firing wildly into the windshield. The bullets ricocheted off the bulletproof glass with loud, spiderwebbing cracks. The vehicle swerved aggressively, slamming sideways into the second enforcer, launching him into the freezing river with a heavy splash.
The driver’s door kicked open before the vehicle even came to a complete stop.
Cole Maddox exploded out of the car like a vengeful titan.
He didn't hesitate. In two blinding strides, Cole closed the distance to the remaining thug who was swinging a heavy iron rebar. Cole ducked beneath the blow, driving a brutal palm strike into the man’s throat, followed by a vicious hook that sent the enforcer crashing unconscious to the wet asphalt.
Grant scrambled backward across the slick wooden planks of the pier, frantically pointing his shaking revolver at Cole. “Stay back! Stay back, Maddox, or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet through her!”
Cole stopped ten feet away. His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt splattered with road mist, his winter-gray eyes glowing with lethal fury. He looked like an apex predator cornering its prey.
“You’re out of bullets, Grant,” Cole said, his voice deadly quiet.
Grant looked down at the cylinder in terror. He had fired four panicked rounds at the car, and the remaining chambers had jammed on the slide.
With a feral scream of frustration, Grant threw the useless gun at Cole and lunged for Evelyn, trying to drag her toward the edge of the pier as a human shield.
Evelyn reacted on pure instinct. Remembering the self-defense moves Cole had insisted on teaching her in the penthouse gym two nights ago, she hooked her foot behind Grant’s ankle and drove her elbow sharply back into his solar plexus.
Grant wheezed in agony, his grip slipping.
That single second was all Cole needed.
Cole surged forward, grabbing Grant by the throat with both hands and driving him backward until Grant’s spine slammed brutally against the low wooden railing hanging over the churning black water of the East River.
“Cole!” Evelyn cried out.
Cole held Grant suspended over the drop, his knuckles white, his forearm muscles bulging under the strain. Grant was turning purple, kicking his legs frantically in mid-air, clutching at Cole’s iron wrists.
“Five years ago, you locked my little sister in a burning room,” Cole growled, his voice vibrating with five years of agony and hatred. “You listened to her scream, and you walked away. Give me one reason why I shouldn't drop you into this current and let you drown in the dark.”
Grant clawed at Cole’s hands, wheezing desperately, terror bulging his eyes. “Please... Maddox... please...”
Evelyn ran forward, placing her trembling hands on Cole’s broad shoulders. “Cole, stop! Look at me!”
Cole’s chest heaved, his jaw locked in a murderous snarl, his gaze fixed on Grant’s fading pulse.
“Cole, please!” Evelyn urged, her voice breaking through the crimson haze of his rage. “If you kill him here, you become what he is. Clara wouldn't want you to ruin your life for this monster. Don’t let him take your future, too! Let the law bury him!”
For three agonizing heartbeats, nobody moved. The only sound was the cold wind and Grant’s pathetic gasps for air.
Slowly, Cole’s breathing steadied. The wild darkness in his gray eyes receded, replaced by icy, calculated control.
“Death is too easy for you, Grant,” Cole whispered into his ear.
With a contemptuous shove, Cole dragged Grant away from the edge and slammed him face-first onto the wet concrete of the pier.
At that exact moment, the night sky was painted in strobing red and blue lights. Half a dozen federal law enforcement cruisers and unmarked black sedans roared onto Pier 19, sirens wailing. Armed FBI tactical agents spilled out, weapons drawn, shouting commands into the mist.
An agent in a suit approached Cole, flashing an official badge. “Mr. Maddox. We intercepted Vance an hour ago. He handed over the duplicate ledger. We have the wiretaps, the arson confessions, and the offshore accounts.”
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Cole looked down at Grant, who was sobbing into the cold pavement as federal agents pinned his hands behind his back and clicked heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
“Take him away,” Cole said coldly. “And make sure he never sees the sun again.”
