Chapter 7 - Ambush at the Docks
The rain was torrential over the dark, industrial expanse of the Harbor Nine shipping terminal.
It was 11:30 PM on Sunday night—twelve hours before the official port authority hearing.
Julian Moretti hadn't stayed in Westchester. He had dragged seventy-two-year-old Arthur Pendelton—the terrified former trustee of Vale Meridian—directly to the abandoned supervisor office at the edge of Harbor Nine’s Pier 4.
Gabriel and I arrived in an armored black SUV, escorted by three security vehicles filled with Gabriel’s private tactical team.
As we stepped out into the pouring rain under the yellow glow of industrial floodlights, the sea wind whipped my black trench coat around my legs. Gabriel stood beside me, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist, a heavy concealed sidearm strapped beneath his dark tailored coat.
Inside the rusted corrugated building, three armed men guarded the entrance.
When Gabriel’s men stepped forward, the guards didn't fire. They knew who Gabriel Vance was. They opened the heavy steel doors.
Inside, Arthur Pendelton sat tied to a wooden chair, his face bruised, his hand shaking violently as he held a pen over a legal affidavit resting on a metal desk.
Standing beside him was Julian Moretti—a fifty-year-old man with silver hair, a scarred neck, and cold, dead brown eyes.
And standing in the corner, wearing a dripping wet raincoat and looking pale and terrified, was Sloane Bennett.
When Sloane saw me walk in beside Gabriel Vance, she let out a small, choked gasp, backing into the shadows.
“Nora Vance,” Julian Moretti sneered, his voice raspy like grinding stones. “I heard you traded up from little Adrian to big bad Gabriel.”
“Let Arthur go, Julian,” I said, stepping forward without a hint of fear. “He’s an old man who knows nothing about your offshore shell accounts.”
“He knows enough to sign this paper,” Moretti barked, slapping his hand onto the desk. “Once this affidavit says your signature was valid, Harbor Nine belongs to Apex. And there’s nothing you or your billionaire boyfriend can do about it!”
Suddenly, the side doors of the warehouse slammed open!
A man burst inside, soaked with rain, holding a gun in his right hand, his face pale and desperate.
Adrian Vale.
“Get away from my wife, Moretti!” Adrian roared, his voice echoing frantically off the metal walls.
Julian Moretti laughed—a cold, cruel sound. “Look who arrived! The disgraced prince of Vale Meridian! You’re too late, Adrian. Your little chief of staff here already sold you out.”
Sloane cowered in the corner. “Adrian, please! They threatened to kill me!”
“Shut up, Sloane!” Adrian screamed, his eyes wild, shifting from Sloane to Moretti, and finally settling on me and Gabriel.
When Adrian saw Gabriel’s hand resting securely on my waist, a look of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossed his face.
“Nora...” Adrian pleaded, his gun trembling in his hand. “I came to fix this... I came to save you...”
“Put the gun down, Adrian,” Gabriel commanded calmly, stepping slightly in front of me, his posture solid as an iron wall. “You’re out of your depth.”
“She’s MY WIFE!” Adrian yelled hysterically.
“She WAS your wife,” Julian Moretti barked. “And now you’re both going to die in this warehouse!”
Moretti reached for his gun—
BANG!
A shot shattered the night air!
Moretti’s lead mercenary fired at Gabriel, but Gabriel moved with lightning speed, pulling me behind a heavy concrete pillar as his security team opened fire!
Gunfire erupted across the warehouse like thunder!
Sloane screamed, ducking behind a stack of wooden crates.
Adrian, desperate to prove himself, charged forward toward Moretti, firing his weapon wildly—
BANG! BANG!
Moretti shot Adrian twice in the chest!
Adrian collapsed onto the wet concrete floor with a heavy, wet thud, his gun skittering across the floor.
“ADRIAN!” I shouted.
Gabriel didn't hesitate. He stepped out from behind the pillar, raised his custom tactical weapon, and fired two precise, lethal rounds through Julian Moretti’s chest!
Moretti fell backward, crashing dead onto his own fraudulent paperwork.
The remaining mercenaries threw down their weapons, surrendering immediately as Gabriel’s security team swarmed the room, securing Arthur Pendelton and dragging a screaming, sobbing Sloane Bennett out into the rain.
Gabriel immediately turned to me, checking my body with frantic, gentle hands. “Nora! Are you hit? Look at me—are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I breathed, my heart pounding against my ribs. “I’m okay.”
I looked down at the floor.
May you like
Adrian lay coughing up blood, clutching his chest, pooling red water spreading beneath him.
I walked slowly over to the man I had loved for fifteen years, kneeling beside him in the wet cold.
