Chapter 4 - The Shadows Shift
While Kara slept peacefully under the influence of a mild, pregnancy-safe sedative, the shadows of New York were moving.
Deep beneath the docks of Red Hook, Brooklyn, in a dimly lit warehouse owned by a subsidiary of Rourke Maritime, Liam Mercer woke up tied to a cold metal chair.
The smell of salt water, rust, and heavy fuel filled the cold air. Blood dripped from his broken nose, and his wrist was bound tightly in plastic zip-ties, causing blinding spikes of pain to shoot up his arm every time he moved.
Footsteps echoed against the concrete floor.
Out of the darkness stepped Marcus, flanked by two formidable men who looked less like security guards and more like hardened mercenaries.
“Where am I?” Liam wept, panic seizing his chest as he pulled against the restraints. “Let me go! You can't do this! I’ll call the cops!”
Marcus chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “The cops? Mr. Mercer, the police precinct in this district gets its heating oil delivered by Rourke Maritime. The captain’s daughter is currently attending Yale on a full scholarship funded by the Rourke Foundation. Who do you think they’re going to listen to?”
Liam’s heart sank into his stomach. The reality of his situation crushed him. He had thought Kara was just marrying some wealthy wall-street suit. He hadn't realized he had laid hands on the queen of an empire built on iron and shadows.
“I didn't know!” Liam begged, blood mixing with tears on his chin. “I swear I didn't know! I was broke, I was drunk! I saw her in the paper last week, looking so happy, while I was living in a dump! I just wanted money! I wanted her to pay for what she did to me!”
Marcus walked over, leaning down until his face was inches from Liam’s. “She didn't do anything to you, Mercer. You destroyed yourself. But touching Mrs. Rourke? That was a death sentence.”
“Is… is he going to kill me?” Liam choked out, his body trembling violently.
“Kill you?” Marcus smiled coldly. “Mr. Rourke is a father now. He promised his wife he wouldn't bring bloodshed into their home today. No, you aren't going to die.”
Liam let out a sigh of relief, but Marcus’s next words turned his blood to ice.
“You’re going on a little trip,” Marcus continued smoothly. “A private cargo vessel leaving for a mining facility in northern Greenland in one hour. You’ll be working the coal lines. No phone, no internet, no visitors. For the next twenty years.”
Liam began to scream, but Marcus casually stuffed a heavy rag into his mouth, turning away as his men cut the chair restraints and dragged the sobbing man toward the dark loading docks.
Back in Tribeca, Daniel stood on the balcony of his penthouse, holding a glass of Scotch he had no intention of drinking. He watched the harbor in the distance, seeing the dark outline of his cargo ships moving silently through the dark waters.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.
“It’s done, boss,” Marcus’s voice came through the speaker. “He’s on the Northern Star. He won't ever see New York again.”
“Good,” Daniel said, his voice cold as winter steel. “Ensure the café owner is fully compensated. Buy the building if you have to. I want no trace of today’s incident in the press.”
“Already taken care of, Mr. Rourke. Sleep well.”
May you like
Daniel ended the call and stepped back inside, sliding the glass door shut. He walked quietly into the bedroom, stripping off his suit jacket and holster, dropping them to the floor, and slid into bed beside Kara.
As if sensing his presence, Kara stirred in her sleep, turning toward him and resting her head against his chest. Daniel wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, feeling the steady, rhythmic heartbeat of his wife and the tiny, fragile life growing inside her.
