Chapter 13 - THE LION IN THE DOCKS
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Pier 42 on the Hudson River was a rusted graveyard of abandoned shipping containers and rotting timber.
A freezing autumn rain poured from the black sky, turning the concrete tarmac into sheets of dark water.
Inside Warehouse 9, Clary was tied to a wooden chair beneath a hanging crane.
Her emerald gown was torn at the hem, and a thin streak of blood ran from her left brow where a guard had struck her during the escape.
Yet she sat with her chin held high, refusing to let Moretti's twenty armed men see her cry.
"Sing for us, little bird," Moretti taunted, pacing in front of her while twirling a heavy silver revolver.
"Let's see if your high-society voice can save your throat tonight."
Clary spat a drop of blood onto the wet floor near his polished leather shoes.
"Declan is coming for you."
"And when he gets here, you will beg him to let you die quickly."
Moretti laughed, a harsh, grating sound that bounced off the corrugated steel walls.
"Declan Knox is one man against an army."
"He's a fool who traded his entire criminal empire for a cheap maid."
Suddenly, the massive industrial bay doors of Warehouse 9 were blown inwards by a high-explosive breaching charge.
The shockwave shattered every window in the building and knocked five of Moretti's guards off their feet.
Through the wall of smoke and fire stepped a single figure.
I didn't wear body armor.
I didn't carry a riot shield.
I held two tactical shotguns, my tattooed arms soaked in rain and blood.
"Kill him!" Moretti screamed, scrambling behind a steel shipping container.
Automatic gunfire erupted from all sides, bullets tearing through the air and biting into the concrete.
I moved through the hail of fire like an elemental demon.
Every pull of my triggers blew a Moretti soldier out of his boots.
I discarded the empty shotguns and drew two customized blades from my belt, closing the distance on the surviving gunmen with terrifying speed.
It wasn't a battle.
It was an execution.
In less than ninety seconds, nineteen of Moretti's elite enforcers lay dead or dying in pools of rain and blood across the warehouse floor.
Silence fell over the cavernous space, broken only by the rhythmic dripping of water and Clary's ragged breathing.
I walked toward the center of the room, my boots splashing through the dark crimson puddles.
Moretti stepped out from behind the shipping container, his eyes wild with animal panic.
He had his revolver jammed violently against Clary's temple.
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"Drop the knives, Declan!" Moretti shrieked, his finger trembling on the trigger.
"Drop them or I blow her brains across this floor!"
