Chapter 8 - The Sinking Dock
Mark immediately ripped the flash drive from the tower, sliding it into his inner breast pocket. He stepped away from the window, grabbing a heavy iron boat hook resting against the timber wall. The damp air smelled of lake algae, rust, and the metallic sharpness of an impending storm.
""I know what you did to my father, Chloe!"" Mark shouted through the wooden door, his voice hoarse with adrenaline. ""It’s all on this drive! The police will have it before dawn!""
A hollow laugh answered from beyond the wood. ""There won't be any police, cousin. Just like there were no questions about Elena.""
A sudden blast tore through the door lock, splintering the aged pine. The door swung open violently on its hinges. Standing framed against the flashing lightning was the man in the trench coat, a silenced pistol raised at chest height. Behind him, holding an umbrella with pristine composure, stood Chloe.
""Give me the drive, Mark,"" Chloe commanded softly, her floral dress fluttering beneath her cardigan in the damp wind. ""You were always too sentimental for this family. Just like your father.""
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Mark lunged forward, swinging the boat hook in a wide arc. The heavy iron struck the hitman's wrist, sending the weapon spinning into the murky lake below with a dull splash. The hitman cursed, grabbing Mark by the collar and driving him violently into the rotting floorboards.
Wood cracked beneath their combined weight. With a sickening groan, the ancient pier gave way, plunging both men into the freezing black waters of the lake.
