CARA’S POV The roar of the twin engines faded to a low hum as the patrol boat cut through the dark waters.
I reached the edge of the dock, my boots slipping on the snow, and collapsed onto the frozen concrete.
My hands scraped against a thin layer of ice as I struggled to catch my breath, my knees buckling from the adrenaline crash.
I lurched forward, fighting against the wind.
I watched the boat disappear into the darkness, a knot tightening in my chest.
Dante had actually jumped from the dock onto Ibarra’s ship.
The madman had dared to make the leap.
Footsteps.
Fast, uneven, slapping against the snow-slicked concrete right behind me.
“Isa!
Isa, run!” I spun around.
Julian was sprinting along the dock, racing past storage sheds and small fishing boats resting in their cradles, his gun gripped tight in his right hand.
Behind him, a pack of men dressed in black emerged from between two brick warehouses.
Six, maybe seven of them; they were closing in fast.
Gunshots tore through the fog.
Julian veered sharply to the left and dove behind a stack of wooden crates as bullets sent sparks flying off the metal siding right next to him.
A bone-deep chill seized me.
I scanned the dock and spotted a boat sitting on a trailer a few meters from the water; its hull was high enough to provide cover.
I ran across the icy stretch and crouched down, my back against the freezing fiberglass.
Julian spotted me a second later.
Using the crates for cover, he sprinted the final stretch and flattened himself against the ground beside me, his chest heaving.
“Where’s Danny?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Dante’s with him on Ibarra’s boat.” He took a ragged breath and glanced past the trailer’s wheel well.
“Worry about yourself first.” “I thought you were supposed to handle those guys!” He brandished his empty pistol.
“I’m out of ammo.
How am I supposed to take out twenty of them with my bare hands?” “Shit.” I slapped my palm over my mouth.
“Fuck.” Boots crunched on the frozen concrete, closer now.
Two sets of footsteps, slow and deliberate, a pace that betrayed the fact that they already knew where we were.
“We need a weapon,” I whispered.
“I can’t die here.
Danny still needs me.” Julian’s gaze met mine.
Neither of us said what we were both thinking.
My hand brushed against something solid near my boot: a heavy, rusted iron pipe wedged against the trailer’s chassis.
I grabbed it and pressed it against my chest, waiting.
The footsteps stopped just past the stern of the boat.
A shadow stretched across the snow as the first guard raised his weapon, ready to round the trailer and open fire.
Julian moved first.
He drove his boot into the guard’s knee.
The man’s leg buckled; he cried out as he stumbled, exposed.
I struck his wrist with the pipe, and his weapon skittered across the ice with a metallic clatter.
The second guard rounded the hull, his rifle raised.
I dove onto the concrete, snatched up the pistol that had fallen to the ground, and fired.
He collapsed.
Silence settled back over the water.
Julian grabbed the first guard by the collar, slammed his head violently against the trailer frame to knock him out, then picked up the rifle the second guard had dropped.
“Got one,” Julian said with a wry smile.
We stayed pressed against the hull, breathing hard.
The other guards had fanned out into the shadows between the hangars, sweeping the dock with broad movements.
I could hear them speaking in short, clipped sentences, their boots crunching on the ice as they tried to pinpoint our location.
A gunshot cracked against the trailer frame, just above our heads.
Julian leaned out and fired back three quick shots.
For a moment, the dock lit up with the flashes of gunfire, and the blasts echoed, amplified by the water.
Then, another sound.
Grunts.
A body slamming violently against the concrete.
Gunshots that weren’t ours, coming from the other side of the hangars.
Julian looked at me.
We didn’t say it, but we were both thinking the same thing.
Who else is out there?
The firing stopped.
Quiet returned to the dock, broken only by the wind and the lapping of dark water against the pilings.
A lone man in tactical gear emerged from behind the nearest hangar, his weapon pointed downward, he scanned the dock.
I rose from behind the trailer, weapon raised, my finger resting along the trigger guard.
“You,” I called out.
“What are you doing here?” His gaze shifted to me, recognition flickered across his face.
“The boss sent us as backup,” he said, breathless.
“Where is he?” “He went after Ibarra.” Julian stepped up beside me, his rifle still trained outward.
“Isa, is that one of Dante’s men?” “Yeah.” I nodded.
“He’s with Dante.” Behind him, five more figures in tactical gear emerged from the fog.
They moved past our trailer toward Ibarra’s remaining guards near the warehouses, within a minute, the gunfire ceased completely.
The lead man touched his ear to listen to his radio.
“She’s safe,” he announced.
“We haven’t located the boss yet.” “Is that Fernando on the line?” I asked.
He gave a brief nod, already turning to lead his team toward the edge of the dock.
A single gunshot rang out from the water.
My heart tightened.
I spun toward the water, thinking of Danny, of Dante, out there alone on Ibarra’s boat.
Then I heard it: the roar of an engine growing louder as it cut through the mist, heading for the dock.
I ran.
My boots pounded the wet concrete as the patrol boat appeared, executing a sharp turn against the dock’s pilings.
Dante was at the helm; Blood trickled from a cut on his lip and a dark bruise streaked his forehead; he was still holding a gun.
I scanned the deck for Danny but didn’t see him at first.
Then I spotted him.
A small figure curled up near the stern, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, head bowed.
The moment the boat scraped against the dock’s rubber fenders, I lunged forward, but Julian held me back by the arm.
“Wait,” he said, restraining me until the boat steadied.
“Let him tie it off.” Dante cut the engine, leaned over, and helped Danny to his feet.
Even from the dock, I could make out the bruises on Danny’s face; one side was swollen and dark.
Dante leapt across the gap onto the concrete, with Danny right behind him.
I broke free from Julian’s grip and ran toward my brother.
“Danny!” My voice cracked.
He looked up, his face contorting, tears streaming down his battered cheeks, and reached out for me.
I embraced him and held him tight against my chest; we both wept there on the freezing dock.
“I’m here,” I whispered into his hair.
“I’m here.
You’re safe.” Behind us, one of Dante’s men stepped forward, holding out an earpiece.
“He wants a status update.” Dante took it without a word and walked a few paces away along the dock, his voice low and clipped.
I paid little attention to that.
My entire focus was on the boy trembling in my arms.
Rapid footsteps echoed on the concrete behind us.
“Cara!
Danny!” We both turned around.
Aunt Val was running along the platform from the main entrance.
As soon as she reached us, she pulled us both into a fierce, tight embrace.
She stepped back a moment later, her eyes shining, and fixed me with a look that was a mix of relief and fury.
“I thought I told you to stay put.”