Chapter 4 - The Pivot
Time seemed to slow down to an agonizing crawl.
Daniel stood frozen, his hand still gripping his pistol. For a man who ruled half the city through fear and intimidation, he was suddenly trapped in an impossible corner. If he dropped his gun, Vance would execute us both. If he fired, Vance would pull the trigger on Michael.
I looked at Daniel, then up at Vance on the catwalk, and finally down at Michael.
Something clicked inside my mind. I remembered the financial audits I used to manage for my father’s failed restaurant business, the meticulous attention to detail required to balance ledger sheets.
“He’s lying,” I said loudly, stepping out from behind Daniel’s protective shoulder.
Vance frowned, glaring down at me. “Shut up, nurse, before I put one in you too.”
“No, look at him!” I pointed upward, my voice ringing with absolute clarity. “Victor Vance doesn't hold physical ledgers. He’s too paranoid. He uses encrypted digital servers in the Caymans. That book in your hand isn't a ledger, Vance... it’s a prop!”
Vance’s face twitched for a split second—just a micro-expression of panic, but Daniel caught it instantly.
“Nice try, scumbag,” Daniel murmured, his lips curving into a lethal smile.
Before Vance could react, Daniel didn't drop his gun; he raised it with terrifying speed and fired a single shot that clipped the metal railing inches from Vance’s hand. The sudden explosion of gunfire echoed like thunder through the slaughterhouse.
Panic rippled through Vance’s henchmen stationed in the shadows.
“Kill them!” Vance shrieked, shoving Michael aside and scrambling backward behind the industrial catwalk railing.
Hell broke loose. Gunfire erupted from the upper shadows, bullets ricocheting off concrete pillars and sending sparks flying everywhere.
Daniel grabbed my waist, throwing us both behind a heavy steel meat-processing table just as a volley of submachine gun fire chewed up the space where we had been standing.
“Stay down!” Daniel yelled over the deafening noise.
“My brother!” I screamed, pointing toward the pillar where Michael was still tied up, completely exposed in the middle of the crossfire.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Daniel drew a second compact firearm from his ankle holster, popped up from behind the table, and laid down suppressive fire toward the catwalk stairs, clearing the path.
“Go!” Daniel shouted at me. “Cut him loose! I’ll cover you!”
I didn't think twice. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I sprinted across the open concrete floor, ducking low beneath the flying bullets. I reached Michael just as another round shattered the concrete near my boot.
“Rachel!” Michael wailed.
“Hold still!” I grabbed a discarded utility knife from a nearby butcher’s block and sawed frantically through the thick nylon ropes binding his wrists.
The ropes snapped. Michael tumbled forward into my arms.
“Can you run?” I demanded, pulling him to his feet.
“Yes! Yes!”
“Move!”
We scrambled backward behind a row of industrial freezers just as Salvatore and half a dozen of Daniel’s enforcers smashed through the front loading doors, pouring into the building with automatic rifles blazing.
The tide of the firefight turned in seconds. Vance’s men were outgunned and outmatched. Within three minutes, the shooting stopped, replaced by the groans of wounded men and the heavy scent of cordite.
Daniel walked slowly across the blood-spattered floor, his pistol still drawn, stepping up the metal stairs toward the catwalk where Vance was trying to crawl away.
May you like
Daniel grabbed Vance by the collar of his jacket and hauled him to his feet, slamming him hard against the metal railing.
“You wanted a war, Vance?” Daniel whispered, his voice dangerously quiet. “You just got one.”
