Chapter 11 - The Fall of the King
Dominic scrambled out of his armchair, his cane clattering against the concrete. His arrogant composure had completely disintegrated into blind, unadulterated panic. He scrambled toward a secondary fire exit leading to a private speedboat moored beneath the pier.
His last remaining bodyguard stepped into Julian’s path, raising a shotgun. Julian closed the distance inside the barrel’s sweep, driving his combat knife into the man’s tactical vest joint while redirecting the weapon toward the ceiling. The deafening blast shredded the rafters. Julian twisted, sweeping the guard’s legs out from under him, and put an end to the fight.
Silence fell over the cavernous warehouse, broken only by the crackle of burning wood and the rhythmic sloshing of river water beneath the rotting floorboards.
Julian walked through the haze toward the fire escape. Dominic was crawling down the wooden ramp, clutching his chest, his face purple with exhaustion.
Julian descended the stairs, his boots echoing with finality. He grabbed Dominic by the collar of his expensive cashmere coat and hoisted him to his feet, pinning him against the moss-covered railing.
“Julian... wait!” Dominic gasped, spit flying from his lips. “I have millions... Swiss accounts... in Clara’s name! I can give it all to the girl! She’ll never want for anything!”
Julian stared into the eyes of the man who had terrorized his life, who had made Clara run until her heart literally tore apart.
“She already has everything she needs,” Julian said quietly. “She has her mother’s courage. And she has her father’s protection.”
“You can’t just walk away!” Dominic spat, his voice trembling with desperation. “The syndicate will hunt you! You’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder!”
“Let them come,” Julian whispered.
With a single, decisive motion, Julian flipped Dominic over the wooden barrier. Dominic shrieked as he plunged into the freezing, turbulent currents of the Columbia River, where the industrial undertow swallowed him whole beneath the churning timber pilings.
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Julian leaned against the railing, breathing heavily. He looked down at his blood-stained hands, then reached into his jacket pocket.
Clara’s locket was safe against his heart.
