Chapter 21
The midnight air at Pier 44 was thick with fog and the sharp scent of saltwater and decaying fish. The docks were deserted, shadows stretching long and menacing under the flickering yellow light of a single streetlamp. Domenico walked alone, his footsteps echoing hollowly on the wet wooden planks. He wore a long, dark overcoat that concealed his weaponry, his face an emotionless mask of cold determination. He reached the end of the pier, where a large, rusted cargo container sat in the gloom. The heavy metal doors groaned open, revealing Silas Cole flanked by six heavily armed men. In the center of the container, bound to a chair, was eight-year-old Ethan, his small face streaked with tears, his eyes wide with absolute terror. Silas stepped forward, a cruel, triumphant smile twisting his aged features. "I knew you were too soft, Domenico," Silas sneered, his voice cutting through the fog. "You always had a weakness for the innocent. Where is the girl?" Domenico did not speak. His sharp, intimidating eyes scanned the container, registering the positions of every guard, the angles of their weapons, and the distance to the boy. "The girl stays home," Domenico said softly, his voice barely audible over the lapping waves. "I came for the boy." Silas laughed, a dry, rattling sound. "Then you came to die."
