Chapter 6 - The Sovereign’s Terms
The silence that followed was broken only by the steady, rhythmic patter of rain against the iron roofs of the dock.
Derek hung in Arthur’s grip, his toes barely dragging through the wet gravel, his breath coming in rapid, terrified twitches.
"Here is what is going to happen, Derek," Arthur said, his voice as calm and steady as a doctor delivering a diagnosis. "I am going to pay Jimmy Kelly his forty thousand dollars."
Derek blinked through his swollen eyes, pure confusion washing over his blood-stained face. "You... you are?"
"Yes," Arthur continued softly. "And in exchange, Jimmy Kelly is going to transfer your paper to me. Which means, as of midnight tonight, you no longer owe a Queens loan shark."
Derek let out a ragged sob of relief. "Oh God... thank you, sir! Thank you! I’ll pay you back! I’ll work for you! I’ll—"
"You will not work for me," Arthur interrupted, his fingers tightening on Derek’s lapels until the fabric groaned. "You will be placed on a commercial freighter leaving the harbor at three o'clock this morning. The ship is bound for a salt mine in northern Chile. You will work off your forty thousand dollars at six dollars a day."
Derek’s face went completely grey. "Chile?! No... no, you can't do that! That's... that's slavery!"
"It's debt consolidation," Arthur corrected flatly. "If you ever return to this city—if you ever write her name on a piece of paper, if you ever send a text, if you ever even think about Clara Bennett—the captain of that ship has instructions to drop you twenty miles off the coast of Valparaiso with ten pounds of iron tied to your ankles."
Arthur dropped him.
Derek hit the wet gravel with a hard, wet thud, gasping for air as he curled into a tight ball in the mud.
Arthur turned his back on him, walking toward Marco. "Put him in the crate. Deliver him to Captain Vance at Pier 14."
"Right away, Boss," Marco said, motioning for two guards to lift Derek off the ground.
Arthur walked back to Clara. He pulled a clean white linen handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped a trace of wet road grime from his polished shoes.
"Are you satisfied with those terms?" Arthur asked her, looking into her wide hazel eyes.
Clara looked at Derek being dragged toward the dark iron delivery van. He was no longer shouting. He was weeping silently, completely broken by the absolute, crushing power of the man standing beside her.
She felt no pity. She felt no regret. She felt only a massive, suffocating weight lifting off her lungs for the first time in eight years.
"He won't ever come back?" she whispered.
"He will never see the skyline of this city again," Arthur promised. "You have my word."
May you like
He held out his arm to her—not as a command, but as an offer.
"It is eleven o'clock, Clara," Arthur said smoothly. "The night is still young, and you haven't had dinner. Let me take you home."
