Chapter 7 - The Shadow of the Pier
The sound of rushing water filled the pitch-black chamber, a cold stream spilling over their shoes within seconds.
Alina gasped in terror, pulling Lucia high into her arms as the icy Atlantic water rose past their ankles. "Dominic! What do we do?!"
Dominic did not panic. In the absolute darkness, his voice was a rock of absolute authority. "Marco, tactical light."
Marco clicked on a high-powered weapon light, cutting a beam of bright white illumination through the rising water and stone dust.
"The main stairs are sealed by magnetic locks," Marco said, examining the heavy iron door above. "It would take three breacher charges to dent that frame."
"We aren't going up," Dominic said flatly. He walked over to the far wall where the old drainage tunnel met the sea wall. "My grandfather built a secondary overflow outlet that leads directly beneath the private pier. It's manually operated from inside."
He waded through the knee-deep water toward a heavy, rusted iron wheel mounted on the granite wall. The metal was corroded by decades of salt air.
Dominic grabbed the iron wheel with both hands, his broad shoulders tensing, his black shirt stretching across his back as he applied every ounce of his massive physical power.
The rusted iron groaned. Sparks flew from the gears.
"Help him!" Alina cried out, setting Lucia on a high stone ledge above the water line.
Marco joined Dominic, both men throwing their combined strength against the ancient mechanism. With a violent metallic screech, the iron wheel turned three full rotations.
A six-foot iron grate set near the floor slid upward, revealing a narrow, brick-lined drainage tunnel sloping downward toward the ocean sound. The air inside smelled of fresh salt sea wind.
"Go! Fast!" Dominic ordered, ushering Alina and Lucia into the tunnel first.
They crawled through the narrow passageway as the water behind them reached chest height. After fifty feet of dark crawling, the tunnel opened onto the rain-slicked timber pilings beneath the private estate pier.
The cold ocean wind whipped across their faces as they stepped onto the wooden crossbeams below the dock planks. Above their heads, heavy footsteps echoed as several armed men paced the timber pier.
"They think we're trapped in the vault," Marco whispered, holding his sidearm ready.
Dominic looked up through the gaps in the floorboards. Standing near the edge of the pier, holding an umbrella and a satellite phone, was Cassian. Dressed in a expensive grey trench coat, the traitorous lieutenant was laughing softly into his phone.
"It's done," Cassian was saying into the receiver. "Dominic and the girl are at the bottom of the bay. Clear the transfer documents for six o'clock."
Dominic’s blue-gray eyes turned into pure, unadulterated ice. He looked at Marco, gesturing silently to the left support beam.
"Stay here with Alina and the child," Dominic whispered.
"Boss, let me go with you," Marco urged softly.
May you like
"No," Dominic replied, his voice absolute. "Guard the bloodline."
Without making a sound, Dominic reached up, his massive hands gripping the wet timber edge of the pier, and hoisted his broad frame silently onto the deck above.
