Chapter 8 - The Inheritance
Viktor Vance froze. The tugboat was slowly drifting away from the pier, the gap of black, freezing water widening to six feet, then eight.
The remaining crew members on the boat took one look at Dominic and Vivien, saw the cold, lethal resolve in their eyes, and immediately cut the remaining lines, leaving Viktor and Elena stranded on the concrete apron.
Elena dropped her weapon. It clattered against the wet concrete, sliding into the dark water below.
She sank to her knees, pulling her soaked apron over her face, her shoulders shaking violently as she wept.
Viktor looked at his sister, then at the rifle pointing at his heart, and slowly raised his hands into the air.
"Dominic," Viktor gasped, his voice cracking with desperation. "Listen to me... we can make a deal. The offshore accounts... there are other ways to access the ledger! My father left secondary codes in London! We can split it—fifty-fifty!"
Dominic walked forward slowly, his boots clicking against the wet concrete, until the barrel of his rifle was resting inches from Viktor’s forehead.
"My father taught me one thing about business, Viktor," Dominic said softly. "Never partner with a man who uses his sister as a shield."
Dominic didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he swung the heavy butt of the rifle sideways, catching Viktor squarely across the jaw. Viktor collapsed onto the concrete, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Two black sedans tore onto the pier, their emergency lights flashing red and blue through the rain.
Marcus stepped out of the lead vehicle, a clean medical bandage wrapped tightly around his torso beneath a rain slicker. Behind him, six loyal syndicate enforcers spilled out, quickly securing Viktor and Elena with heavy zip-ties.
Marcus walked over to Dominic, taking a deep, painful breath.
"Police are five minutes behind us, Boss," Marcus said, looking down at the Vance siblings. "The harbor patrol has already intercepted the tugboat."
Dominic nodded, lowering his weapon. "Take them to the warehouse on 14th Street. Hand them over to the federal authorities through our private contact. Make sure the charges include corporate espionage and attempted murder."
"Consider it done," Marcus said, gesturing for his men to haul Viktor and Elena into the back of the sedans.
As the cars pulled away, leaving the pier quiet once more, the rain began to taper off into a soft, misting drizzle.
Dominic turned to look at Vivien.
She was standing at the edge of the pier, looking out over the dark, turbulent waters of the river toward the glowing skyline of Manhattan. Her wet silk dress clung to her frame, her hair dark and heavy with rain, but her posture was entirely upright, proud, and unbroken.
Dominic walked over and stood beside her.
He pulled a dry handkerchief from his pocket and gently reached out, wiping a streak of dark soot from her cheekbone.
Vivien didn't pull away. She closed her eyes for a brief second, leaning her head slightly into the touch of his hand.
"What happens now, Mr. Vale?" she asked softly, opening her eyes to look at him.
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Dominic looked at her—at the woman he had married, the operative who had protected him, the killer who had buried a ghost beneath his garden, and the wife who had fought beside him in the dark.
"Now," Dominic said, sliding his hand down to wrap his fingers securely around hers, "we go home and rebuild our house."
