Chapter 10 - A DANCE ON THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS WHERE LOVE AND HATE COLLIDE
We slipped out the back entrance of the safe house,
moving through the dense pine forest.
The moon was a sliver of silver,
providing just enough light to see the uneven ground.
Clara held onto my jacket,
her breathing rhythmic and shallow.
"He’s coming,"
she whispered,
stopping suddenly.
I listened.
The sound of snapping twigs echoed from the direction of the house.
Marcus wasn't checking the perimeter.
He was tracking us.
"Get behind that ridge,"
I commanded,
pointing to a rocky outcrop.
"Don't move until I call for you."
"Bennett—"
"Go!"
I crouched behind a fallen cedar,
my pistol leveled at the path we had just taken.
A shadow emerged from the trees.
It was Marcus,
moving with a predatory efficiency that made my skin crawl.
He wasn't carrying a laptop anymore.
He was carrying a suppressed submachine gun.
"Bennett!"
he called out,
his voice calm and conversational.
"Don't make this difficult."
"I’ve known you since you were in diapers."
"I don't want to kill you."
"I just want the book."
I stayed silent,
letting him come closer.
"The Commission is offering a seat,
Bennett!"
he continued.
"Your father was too emotional."
"He couldn't handle the truth of what we were doing."
"But you...
you have the iron."
"With that ledger and my support,"
"we could rule the whole coast."
"Is that what my father’s life was worth to you?"
I shouted,
revealing my position.
"A seat at a table of murderers?"
Marcus spun toward my voice,
but I was already moving.
I fired two rounds,
forcing him to dive for cover.
"Your father was a fool!"
Marcus yelled back.
"He thought he could change the world with a pen!"
"I saved this family from his weakness!"
"And now I’m saving it from yours!"
He opened fire,
the suppressed rounds thudding into the wood of the cedar.
Splinters sprayed my face.
I rolled to the left,
firing back,
but he was gone.
It was a ghost hunt in the dark.
I felt a presence behind me and spun around,
but it was too late.
Marcus slammed into me,
the weight of his body throwing us both to the ground.
We struggled in the dirt,
a primal,
ugly fight for survival.
He was older,
but he was stronger,
his hands like iron claws around my throat.
"You were always...
too soft..."
he wheezed,
squeezing the air from my lungs.
I felt the world start to go gray.
My fingers fumbled for the knife in my boot,
but I couldn't reach it.
Then,
a loud crack echoed through the forest.
The pressure on my throat suddenly vanished.
Marcus let out a grunt of pain and slumped sideways.
I rolled away,
gasping for air,
and looked up.
Clara stood there,
holding my backup pistol with both hands.
Her face was a mask of cold,
unflinching resolve.
She had shot him in the leg.
Marcus was clutching his thigh,
his face contorted in a snarl of rage.
"You little...
Moretti...
bitch,"
he spat.
Clara didn't flinch.
She stepped closer,
the barrel of the gun never wavering.
"That’s for my mother,"
she said,
her voice steady.
She pulled the trigger again.
A shot to the other leg.
Marcus screamed,
the sound echoing through the trees.
"And that’s for the twenty years you spent living off our blood,"
she added.
I stood up,
brushing the dirt from my coat.
I walked over to Marcus and looked down at the man who had been my second father.
"I’m not soft,
Marcus,"
I said,
my voice devoid of emotion.
"I just have a better class of friends."
I took the gun from Clara’s hand.
She looked at me,
her eyes searching mine for a sign of hesitation.
She didn't find one.
I pointed the gun at Marcus’s head.
"Give my father my regards,"
I said.
One shot.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Clara leaned against me,
her body finally beginning to shake.
I held her tight,
the scent of gunpowder and pine needles surrounding us.
The first part of the debt was paid.
But the Commission was still out there.
And the ledger was still in her bag.
"We have to move,"
I said,
guiding her back toward the road.
"The car is a mile away."
"Where are we going?"
she asked,
her voice a whisper.
I looked toward the horizon,
where the first hint of dawn was breaking the darkness.
"To the end of the world,"
I said.
"And then,"
"we’ll build a new one."
The drama was no longer about the past.
May you like
It was about the future.
A future that no amount of money could buy,
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