Chapter 7 - Fire and Ice
Belmont Harbor was a dark, deserted wasteland of concrete, rusted steel, and roaring black waves under the torrential November storm. Sleet pounded against the roof of the abandoned brick boathouse, mixing with the freezing spray of Lake Michigan.
Inside the cavernous, unheated building, a single black van sat idling near the water's edge, where a long, wooden pier stretched out toward a luxury yacht bouncing violently against the storm surge.
Inside the boathouse, Arthur Kane was frantically shoving four crying girls toward the rear doors of the boat landing. His face was wild, bruised with desperation, his hair soaked with rain.
"Get moving, you little brats!" Kane screamed over the roar of the wind. "The boat leaves in five minutes! You're going to South America, whether you like it or not!"
Clara was fighting with everything she had, digging her small boots into the wet concrete, holding Maya and Lily behind her. "No! We're not going with you! Alexander is coming!"
"Vance isn't coming!" Kane shrieked, grabbing Clara by the arm and yanking her forward. "Vance is a businessman! He’s sitting in his warm office! He doesn't care about—"
BOOM!
The heavy wooden double doors of the boathouse didn't just open—they exploded inward as a heavy black SUV rammed through the rusted iron latch, tearing the doors off their hinges in a shower of splintered oak and iron bolts.
The vehicle slammed to a halt twenty feet away, its high-beam LED headlights cutting through the dark gloom like twin suns, blinding Kane and his two hired guards.
The driver’s side door swung open.
Alexander Vance stepped out into the pouring rain inside the boathouse. He didn't have a weapon. He didn't have a security detail. He stood six-foot-two in his water-soaked suit, his broad shoulders squared, his face an unholy mask of murderous, protective fury.
"Arthur," Alexander rumbled, his voice cutting through the sound of the howling wind like a thunderclap. "Let go of my daughter."
Kane panicked. He pulled a small, silver pistol from his coat pocket and leveled it with shaking hands directly at Alexander’s chest. "Stay back, Vance! I swear to God I'll shoot you! I have nothing left to lose!"
The two hired guards took one look at Alexander’s eyes—eyes that promised a slow, agonizing demise—and slowly raised their hands, stepping away from Kane entirely.
"Shoot me then," Alexander said, taking a slow, deliberate step forward into the glaring white headlights. "Because if you don't kill me with the first bullet, Arthur, there is no place on this earth where you can hide from me."
Lily squeezed past Clara’s legs and let out a piercing, joyous scream. "ALEXANDER!"
The sound of his name—spoken with such pure, absolute faith by the tiny girl—shattered whatever remained of Alexander’s restraint.
When Kane turned his head for a fraction of a second toward the child, Alexander moved with terrifying speed. He closed the twenty-foot gap in two seconds, his large hand slamming down onto Kane’s wrist, forcing the gun upward as a deafening BANG echoed off the high rafters.
Alexander didn't stop. He drove his shoulder straight into Kane’s chest, slamming the smaller man against the brick wall with a bone-crunching thud. The pistol clattered harmlessly across the wet concrete, spinning into the freezing waters of the boat slip.
Alexander grabbed Kane by the throat, lifting the grown man three inches off the floor, pinning him against the cold brick.
"You touched my family," Alexander growled, his grey eyes inches from Kane’s terrified, sobbing face. "You made them cry. You made them run in the cold."
"Please..." Kane gasped, his eyes rolling back, his fingernails clawing uselessly at Alexander’s iron grip. "Please... Vance... don't..."
"Alexander! STOP!"
Clara’s voice cut through the darkness.
Alexander froze. He turned his head slowly.
Clara, Nora, Maya, and Lily were standing five feet away in the beam of the headlights, huddled together in the rain. Clara was looking at him—not with fear of him, but with deep, desperate love.
"Don't do it," Clara wept softly, taking a step toward him. "He’s not worth it. We need you to take us home."
Alexander stared at Clara. The violent fire in his chest slowly receded, replaced by a deep, cooling wave of profound clarity. He looked back at the gasping, pathetic man pinned beneath his hand.
Alexander loosened his grip, letting Arthur Kane collapse into a pathetic, sobbing heap on the wet concrete floor.
Red and blue emergency lights suddenly flooded through the shattered boathouse doors as six Chicago police cruisers screeched to a halt outside, their sirens wailing into the storm. Armed officers poured into the building, immediately pinning Kane and his guards to the floor.
Alexander didn't watch them put the handcuffs on Arthur Kane.
He turned his back on the past, dropped to his knees in the freezing rain on the boathouse floor, and opened his broad arms wide.
May you like
All four girls ran into his embrace at once, throwing their arms around his neck, burying their faces into his wet coat, weeping and laughing as he pulled them so close he could feel all four of their heartbeats pressed against his own.
"I’ve got you," Alexander whispered into the storm, kissing the tops of their dark heads one by one. "I’ve got you all. It’s over."
