Chapter 13 - Blood and Kerosene
From beneath the torn lace of her train, Harper produced not a weapon, but a high-intensity military flare.
She struck the ignition cap against her belt buckle. A blinding, magnesium-white fireball erupted in her hand, illuminating the entire hangar in searing glare.
“Fire!” Preston screamed, covering his blinded eyes.
Before his guards could adjust their night optics, the roof panels of the hangar shattered.
Enzo and Matteo dropped down on tactical rappel lines, firing suppressed submachine guns on full auto before their boots even hit the concrete.
The three bodyguards on the left collapsed instantly under a hail of armor-piercing rounds. Matteo hit the ground, rolled behind a fuel cart, and took out the remaining two shooters with clean, precise headshots.
Preston scrambled toward the open stairs of the jet, screaming in panic.
Enzo cut him off.
Enzo stepped between Preston and the plane, his long trench coat billowing in the jet exhaust, his face covered in soot and dried blood. He didn't fire his weapon. He holstered it.
Preston raised his pistol with his good arm, but Enzo closed the distance in a fraction of a second. Enzo’s left hand clamped around Preston’s wrist, twisting it until the bone snapped with a sickening crack.
Preston dropped the gun and screamed, dropping to his knees on the freezing asphalt.
Enzo grabbed Preston by the hair, yanking his head back so he was forced to look up into the gray morning sky.
“You had Nathan shot in the back,” Enzo growled, his voice vibrating with pure, unadulterated fury. “You sold your own daughter like cattle. You poisoned your wife. You are the lowest piece of filth this city ever produced.”
“Enzo… wait!” Preston begged, tears and snot running down his bloody face. “I have two hundred million in Zurich! It’s yours! Take all of it! Just let me board the plane!”
Enzo didn't look at the money. He turned his head and looked at Harper, who was walking toward them across the tarmac, the spent flare smoking in the snow behind her.
“He’s your father,” Enzo said softly. “You decide.”
Harper stood over the broken, bleeding man who had terrorized her whole life. For the first time in twenty-four years, she didn't feel afraid. She didn't feel small.
May you like
She looked down at him with utter disgust.
“You’re not my father,” Harper said. “You’re just a ghost I’m ready to bury.”
