Chapter 19 - The Reckoning of the Wolves
From atop the neighboring container stack, a lone figure stood silhouetted against the Manhattan lights.
It was Marcus, who had scaled the crane ladder unnoticed while Dominic was busy gloating.
"Drop the weapon, Dominic!" Alexander commanded, closing the distance in three violent, lightning-fast strides.
Dominic fired wildly in panic, the bullet grazing Alexander’s left shoulder, tearing through his dark wool coat.
Alexander didn't even break stride.
He lunged forward, his right fist connecting with Dominic’s jaw with the force of a battering ram.
The silver revolver went flying into the dark river, splashing into the murky depths below.
Dominic crashed against the steel wall of Container 408, coughing and gasping for air.
Alexander pinned his uncle by the throat with one hand, his fingers tightening like iron cuffs.
"Twenty-six years," Alexander growled, his voice trembling with years of suppressed rage.
"Twenty-six years you let an innocent family carry the burden of your cowardice."
"Go ahead... kill me..." Dominic wheezed, his eyes bulging as he clawed at Alexander's forearm.
"Show her... that you're just another Sterling killer..."
I stepped up beside Alexander, placing my hand gently on his tensed arm.
"Don't do it, Alexander," I said softly, the rain washing the soot from my cheeks.
"Don't give him the easy way out."
"He spent his whole life hiding behind the Sterling name."
"Strip it away from him."
"Let the whole world see him in an orange jumpsuit, broken and bankrupt."
Alexander looked down at me, the murderous storm in his dark eyes slowly receding.
He released his grip, letting Dominic slide pathetically down the wet container wall into the mud.
Marcus and the tactical team swarmed the dock, disarming the remaining mercenaries and pinning them to the ground.
Sirens began to wail in the distance—not the bought-and-paid-for precinct cruisers, but the federal task force Alexander had alerted hours ago.
Alexander turned his back on his uncle, pulling me tightly against his uninjured chest.
"It’s over," he whispered against my wet hair, his heart beating a steady, triumphant rhythm.
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"The ledger is closed, Sophia."
"The Sterling name belongs to us now."
