Chapter 5 - The Trap at St. Jude’s
The world stopped spinning.
“If you touch her,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a rage so blinding it burned the edges of my vision, “I will personally hunt you down and rip your entire empire apart brick by brick.”
“Ooh, fierce,” Sterling mocked, the line crackling with static. “Just like your old man. But if you want to see your mother draw her next breath, you’ll come alone to Pier 45 within the hour. No bodyguards. No police. And absolutely no Damien Moretti.”
The line went dead.
I dropped the phone onto the boardroom table. It clattered against the wood, the screen glowing mockingly.
Damien was already standing by my side before I could blink, his gray eyes instantly reading the terror and fury written across my face.
“What did he say?”
“He has Mom,” I choked out, tears finally breaking free and spilling down my cheeks. “At Pier 45. He said if I don't go alone, he kills her.”
Damien’s expression didn't just harden—it turned glacial, the terrifying aura of a syndicate kingpin descending upon the room like a nuclear winter.
“He won't touch her,” Damien said, his voice dropping into a low, deadly growl. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a heavy, matte-black firearm and sliding it into his holster. “And he won't touch you.”
“No!” I grabbed his arm. “Did you hear what he said? He said no Damien Moretti. If you follow me, he’ll kill her before we even reach the pier!”
“Do you really think I’m going to let my daughter walk into a trap alone?” Damien looked down at me, his eyes burning with an intensity that brooked no argument. “I built this city’s underworld from the dirt up, Ava. Nobody—nobody—threatens a Moretti and walks away to talk about it.”
“Then we go together on my terms,” I said, my voice hardening into steel as I wiped the tears from my face. I reached across the table, picking up a smaller, sleek encrypted burner phone from the security desk. “Sterling thinks he’s trapping a frightened waitress. We’re going to show him he’s walking into an execution.”
Within twenty minutes, our plan was set.
Marcus Vance coordinated a silent tactical sweep of Pier 45 using Moretti’s private security assets, positioning them offshore and along the warehouse rooftops, completely cutting off any escape routes for Sterling’s men. But on the surface, it would look like I was walking completely alone into the abandoned fish-processing plant at the end of the pier.
When the town car dropped me off at the rusted iron gates of Pier 45, the wind howling off the bay carried the sharp scent of salt water and rotting wood.
The rain had stopped, leaving the asphalt slick and reflecting the neon glow of distant city lights.
I pulled my black wool coat tight around me, squaring my shoulders, and walked down the long, empty pier toward the decaying warehouse at the end.
The heavy metal door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of yellow light spilling out onto the wet ground.
I pushed the door open.
Inside, the cavernous space smelled of rust and damp concrete. In the center of the room, tied to a wooden chair, was a frail figure with a blanket draped over her shoulders.
Mom.
“Ava!” my mother cried out, her voice raspy and terrified as she struggled against the ropes.
“Well, well, well,” a smooth voice echoed from the shadows above the catwalk.
Victor Sterling stepped out into the dim light of a single overhead bulb, a smug, arrogant smile plastered across his face. Two armed thugs stood behind him, their weapons leveled toward the center of the room.
“I told you to come alone, my dear,” Sterling said, descending the metal stairs with slow, deliberate steps. “Yet you look entirely too calm for someone whose mother’s life is hanging by a thread.”
“Let her go, Sterling,” I said, my voice steady as I stepped further into the warehouse, keeping my hands visible at my sides. “This is between you and Moretti. She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this,” Sterling snarled, his mask of corporate composure slipping to reveal a desperate, unhinged fury. “Your father destroyed my port contracts. He ruined my offshore liquidity. He thinks he owns this city! And now, I’m going to take away the only thing he spent twenty-seven years trying to find.”
He pulled a small, silver pistol from his jacket and pressed the cold barrel directly against my mother’s temple.
May you like
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
“Step closer, Ava,” Sterling hissed, his eyes wide and frantic. “Let’s see how much your father’s empire is worth when his daughter’s brains are splattered across this concrete floor.”
