Chapter 8 - The Price Of A Bullet
In the darkness, Roman moved like a phantom.
The moment the light vanished, he threw himself sideways onto the concrete, drawing his weapon and firing three rapid rounds into the muzzle flashes ahead. Two Marcone enforcers collapsed with agonizing groans.
Above on the cranes, the snipers panicked, spraying blind suppressive fire into the pier, the high-caliber rounds splintering the concrete where Roman had stood a second before.
On the barge, Clara dashed through the darkness toward her brother. ""Leo! It's me!""
She ripped the burlap sack from his head. Leo gasped for air, his eyes wide with disbelief and terror. ""Clara?! What are you doing here?! They have guns—""
""Quiet! We’re getting you out of here!"" She used Roman’s combat knife, which she had snatched from his desk, slicing frantically through the thick plastic zip-ties binding his wrists.
""Clara, look out!"" Leo yelled.
A shadowy figure lunged from behind the crane cabin. Victor.
His eyes were wild, teeth bared in an animalistic snarl as he raised a pistol directly at Clara’s face. ""You ruined everything, you little bitch!""
Clara raised her gun, but Victor kicked it brutally from her grip, the weapon tumbling into the churning harbor waters below. He grabbed Clara by the hair, dragging her toward the edge of the barge. ""If I go down, you go first!""
""Victor!""
A voice roared through the storm with the fury of a thousand demons.
Roman vaulted onto the deck of the barge, his silhouette outlined by the distant city lights. He had taken a bullet to his left shoulder; dark blood was soaking through his torn shirt, but he didn't even flinch. His weapon was gone, knocked away in the firefight, but his eyes promised unimaginable vengeance.
Victor panicked. He shoved Clara violently toward the churning black water and swung his weapon toward Roman.
""No!"" Clara screamed as her footing slipped over the slick edge.
Time slowed down.
Roman didn't dive for cover. He didn't reach for a fallen weapon. He launched his entire body forward, throwing himself between Victor’s gun and Clara’s falling form.
BANG.
The gunshot cracked like lightning.
A sharp gasp escaped Roman’s lips as the bullet tore through his abdomen. But his momentum didn't stop. He slammed into Victor with crushing force, his powerful hands closing around the traitor's throat, driving him backward over the safety railing.
Both men crashed onto the metal deck. Victor clawed frantically at Roman’s face, but Roman’s grip was absolute, an iron vise driven by sheer willpower and lethal rage. With a final, brutal twist, Roman broke Victor’s neck, the traitor's body going limp beneath him.
Clara, who had managed to catch the bottom rung of the safety rail with one hand, pulled herself back onto the deck with Leo’s help.
She turned and saw Roman kneeling on the steel floor, his hand pressed against his stomach, dark crimson welling between his fingers.
""Roman!"" she cried, throwing herself onto her knees beside him. She caught his shoulders, pulling him against her chest as he swayed. ""Roman, look at me! Stay with me!""
""Clara..."" Roman whispered, his vision blurring, his heavy head resting against her shoulder. His hand weakly reached up, his bloody fingers curling around her wrist—the exact same way he had caught her in the ballroom. ""Did you... get your brother?""
""He's safe! Leo is safe!"" Clara sobbed, pressing her hand over his wound to stop the bleeding, her own tears washing away the blood on his cheek. ""You fool! Why did you jump in front of that bullet?!""
Roman looked up into her tear-streaked face. Even as his strength drained into the cold rain, his lips curved into that rare, devastating smile.
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""I told you..."" he murmured, his breath shallow and warm against her throat. ""What lands in my hands... stays in my hands.""
His eyes drifted shut, and his heavy body went slack against her arms.
