LEASH OF POWER

""Clara! Behind you!"" Christian's voice roared through the harbor PA system, magnified by the industrial speakers.

Clara spun around on the concrete.

Julian stood there, his mangled arm wrapped in an oily rag, his left hand holding a heavy caliber revolver he had pulled from the dead mercenary by the truck. His face was twisted in an agonized mask of betrayal, pain, and madness.

""You left me to rot in that boat,"" Julian wheezed, his voice trembling. ""You chose him. You chose the family that destroyed us.""

Titan growled, stepping between Clara and her brother, his lips pulled back to expose bloodied teeth, but the dog was limping slightly—a shrapnel wound had torn along his left flank.

""Julian, put the gun down,"" Clara pleaded, holding her hands up, her heart tearing in two. ""Christian is unlocking the container. We can take the girl and walk away. All three of us. The Syndicate won't know where to look.""

""There is no walking away, Clara!"" Julian screamed, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on his cheeks. ""Nikolai Volkov’s men are already at the outer gate! They aren't coming to negotiate. They're coming to kill everyone who touched his daughter! If I give her to them myself, they might let me live!""

Up in the crane booth, Christian stared down through the glass, his hands hovering over the keypad. He had the cipher. Clara had shouted it to him over the radio moments ago. If he punched it in, the automated locks on container forty-two would release.

If he delayed, Julian would kill Clara.

""Julian,"" Christian’s voice crackled over the yard speakers, calm, steady, and utterly devoid of fear. ""You want the girl? Look at the crane.""

Julian’s eyes flicked upward toward the operator booth.

Christian was holding his hand above the manual drop lever—the emergency release that would drop forty tons of steel spreader bar right onto the flatbed truck, pulverizing everything inside container forty-two into dust.

""You drop that, and Volkov skins you alive!"" Julian yelled back, his gun waving wildly between Clara and the crane tower.

""Volkov will have to find me first,"" Christian said over the mic. ""You lower that weapon and step away from Clara, or I crush that container right now. Your only ticket to survival becomes a metal pancake. Choose, Julian. In three seconds.""

""You wouldn't,"" Julian whispered, terror finally overtaking his rage. ""There's an innocent child in there!""

""I am Christian Vance,"" the cold voice echoed over the empty harbor. ""I don't make empty threats. One.""

Julian's hand began to shake violently. The revolver wavered.

""Two.""

Titan lowered his posture, ready to leap despite his wound.

Clara watched her brother’s face crumble. The shadow of the man who used to protect her from their abusive father flickered briefly behind his tortured eyes, before dying entirely.

Julian lowered the gun. His shoulders slumped, the weapon falling from his limp fingers and clattering against the asphalt. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his uninjured hand, sobbing brokenly.

Clara didn't hesitate. She didn't embrace him. She didn't console him. She kicked the revolver away, turned to the container, and shouted up at the tower: ""Enter the code, Christian! Now!""