A sharp, stinging pain erupted on her neck, followed by the warm,
sickening sensation of blood. Elara squeezed her eyes shut, tears of pain and
fury tracing paths through the grime on her cheeks. She bit her lip until she
tasted copper, the metallic tang a grounding counterpoint to the dizzying fear.
Her body trembled against Steven's, a fragile doll in the grip of a monster.
"Steven Cohen!"
Silas's voice was a low thunderclap, the promise of a storm that would
leave only wreckage. Every muscle in his body was corded tight, a predator held
back by the most fragile of leashes. "Lay another hand on her, and your
death will be the stuff of legends."
He took a deliberate step forward, his dark eyes blazing with a hellish
light. "If you want vengeance for Elora, you look at me. Your fight is
with me."
"Vengeance?" Steven laughed, a raw, broken sound. He lifted
his head, his tongue darting out to taste the blood—her blood—on his lips. His
eyes, pools of pure hatred, locked with Silas's. "You think this is just
about vengeance? When Elora was being torn apart for you, where was this
protective fury? I never saw you shed a single tear for her."
His gaze slid back to Elara, a grotesque parody of admiration.
"Heh. No wonder you're so taken with this one. She is... delectable. Such
tender, smooth skin... she even tastes of innocence."
"State your terms," Silas bit out, the words ice-cold and
sharp. He knew this man. This was never just about the past; it was about
greed, power, and a bottomless pit of envy.
"My terms?" Steven's eyebrow arched in mock contemplation.
"Let's start simply. Hand over Valenti's youngest son. And your entire
Middle Eastern market. A fair trade for your precious wife, don't you
think?"
"Done," Silas replied without a heartbeat of hesitation.
"Now let her go."
Steven's laugh was a short, ugly bark. "So eager! But I'm not
finished." The bitterness he'd swallowed for years was now a poison
flooding his veins. "How about this? You hand over every last one of the
Winslow family's client lists and transaction records. Then, you put your
pistol to your chest and pull the trigger. I'll release your wife immediately.
Do we have a deal?"
The air on the beach went dead.
Silas's expression was unreadable granite.
Elara's heart plummeted. This was a death sentence. And even if Silas
complied, this madman would never let her go. Her eyes, wide and pleading,
found Silas's, silently begging him not to be so foolish.
But as Silas held her gaze, he saw it—the subtle shift of her hand, the
slight bulge of her handbag. His focus snapped back to Steven, his voice
dangerously calm. "You give me your word?"
"Boss, no!" Ethan yelled from the sidelines, unable to stay
silent. "He's lying! He'll kill you both!"
"My word is my bond," Steven purred, a twisted smile playing
on his lips. "With you dead, I can take what's mine without...
inconvenience. As for this little girl..." He nuzzled his face against her
wounded neck, his voice a vile whisper meant for Silas alone. "Don't
worry. I'd hate to damage such a perfect toy. I'll take very good care of her
while she mourns you."
The foul scent of him, of blood and madness, overwhelmed her. Elara's
hand, fumbling in her bag, trembled violently. The nausea was no longer just
from fear.
She watched in horror as Silas slowly raised his own pistol, pressing
the cold muzzle against his own heart. He took another step forward.
"Stop right there!" Steven barked, yanking Elara back. The
dagger bit deeper into her throat, drawing a fresh, searing line of pain.
But a new, more terrifying agony suddenly seized her—a deep, cramping
pull in her lower abdomen. Her face went ashen. The baby.
"Ah! My stomach..." she cried out, a genuine sob of terror
wracking her body. She doubled over, her hand clutching her belly. Beads of
cold sweat popped on her forehead.
Seeing her genuine distress, Steven's grip loosened a fraction, the
dagger easing slightly from her skin. "A stomach ache?" he mused,
leaning closer to inspect her. "Don't tell me you really are carrying
his—"
It was the opening she needed.
In one fluid motion born of sheer desperation, Elara's right hand, now
gripping the cold, compact pistol, slipped behind her back. Without a second
thought, without allowing herself to hesitate, she squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
The gunshot was deafening at close range. The force of it jarred her
entire arm. She felt the bullet tear into him, a sickening thud of metal
meeting flesh.
Steven grunted in shock and pain, his grip faltering. Elara shoved his
dagger arm away with all her strength.
Simultaneously, another shot rang out.
BANG!
Silas's bullet found its mark, striking Steven in the shoulder and
spinning him around.
Staggering back, one hand clutching the bloody wound in his abdomen from
Elara's shot, the other pressed against the new hole in his chest, Steven fixed
a look of profound, hateful betrayal on Elara. He saw Silas charging toward
her, a warrior reclaiming his heart. A bitter, self-mocking smile twisted his
lips.
Then, with a final, defiant surge of strength, he whirled and plunged
into the churning, black sea.
Ethan and Ben were on the move instantly, sprinting toward the water's
edge.
But Elara's legs gave out. She crumpled, only to be caught in Silas's
powerful, desperate embrace. He crushed her to his chest, his arms locking
around her as if he could physically shield her from the entire world.
"Elly... I've got you. You're safe," he murmured into her
hair, his voice thick with an emotion so raw it stole her breath.
She buried her face in his shirt, inhaling his familiar scent beneath
the acrid smells of gunpowder and blood. Her hands fisted in the fabric as a
fresh wave of cramping pain made her gasp.
"Silas," she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. "My
stomach... it hurts so much... the baby..."
His heart stopped. He gently loosened his hold, looking down at her
pale, pain-twisted face. Her skin was cold and clammy to his touch.
A storm of fear and fury raged in his eyes. Carefully, reverently, he
scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He leaned down,
pressing a desperate, soothing kiss to her sweat-dampened forehead.
"Don't be afraid, my love. The baby will be fine. I'm taking you to
the hospital right now," he vowed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Mm," she managed, leaning her head against the solid strength
of his chest, one hand still protectively splayed over her abdomen. Please, she
prayed to any god that would listen, please don't take my child.
"Ben!" Silas's voice cut through the night, cold and absolute
as a executioner's blade. "I don't care if you have to drain the ocean.
Find him. Alive or dead, I must see Steven Cohen's body."
With that final, chilling order, he turned and carried Elara away from
the crashing waves.
Behind them, the tide surged, hungry and relentless, swallowing the
evidence of the night's violence. Dark clouds devoured the moon, plunging the
shore into an inky blackness. Soaked and determined, Ethan and Ben signalled
the search party, their phone lights casting weak, dancing beams over the
roiling water as they began their grim hunt.