She Joked That Everyone Forgot Her Birthday / Chapter 16 / 60

Chapter 16 - Fire on the Waterfront

The subterranean dry-dock erupted into violent chaos.

Gunfire echoed off the vaulted brick ceiling like rolling thunder, muzzle flashes illuminating the churning black waters below. Barnaby was already darting between the steel crates, barking with ferocity, creating a frantic diversion that split the remaining mercenaries' attention.

"Marcus!" Nicholas shouted into his tactical lapel mic as he returned fire with two precise, controlled shots that took down a second gunman advancing down the catwalk. "Breach now! North tunnel entrance! Pier 44!"

"Elena, stay down!" Nicholas commanded, his arm pinning me behind the iron housing of the winch as chips of concrete sprayed over our hair from high-velocity rounds slamming into the wall above.

"The detonator!" I screamed, pointing across the catwalk.

Victoria was scrambling toward the table, reaching for a black electronic firing console wired to the diesel cutter moored below. "She’s going to trigger the accelerant!"

If that cutter exploded, the entire cavern would collapse, burying us alive beneath thousands of tons of Boston harbor water and brick.

Nicholas saw it. Without hesitating for a heartbeat, he vaulted over the iron winch, exposing himself to open fire as he charged across the slick metal walkway toward Victoria.

A bullet caught Nicholas in the upper left shoulder.

He grunted in pain, stumbling half a step, but the sheer momentum of his fury carried him forward. He slammed into Victoria’s arm just as her fingers touched the firing toggle, sending the electronic detonator skittering across the metal grating and plunging into the black water fifty feet below.

"You insolent bastard!" Victoria shrieked, drawing a ceramic dagger from her boot and slashing wildly at his throat.

Nicholas caught her wrist in a vice-like grip, his teeth bared in agony from his bleeding shoulder, twisting the weapon out of her hand with a sickening crunch of bone. "It's over, Victoria!"

Behind them, the stone archway of the tunnel exploded inward.

Marcus and four heavily armed tactical operators breached the cavern, stun grenades detonating with blinding white light and concussive booms that disoriented the remaining mercenaries. Within ten seconds, the remaining hostile shooters were disarmed, pinned to the concrete floor under tactical boots.

Victoria collapsed onto the wet catwalk, weeping with hysterical rage, her couture coat soaked in harbor slime.

"Nicholas!" I ran toward him, throwing my arms around his waist as he leaned heavily against the railing. Blood was soaking through his black dress shirt, staining my hands crimson. "You're hit! Nicholas, look at me!"

"I'm fine, Elena," he gasped, his face pale with shock and pain, but his right hand immediately reached up to cup the back of my neck, pulling my forehead against his lips. "I'm fine. Are you hurt? Did they touch you?"

"No! No, I'm okay," I sobbed, tears cutting hot tracks down my cheeks. "Barnaby saved us. Nicholas, you're bleeding so much—"

"Marcus," Nicholas commanded hoarsely, gesturing with his uninjured arm. "Secure the bonds. Get the harbor police. And call Dr. Sullivan to the Beacon Hill residence. No hospitals... we can't let the press know I took a bullet until we control the morning narrative."

Marcus nodded grimly, already cuffing Victoria’s wrists with heavy zip-ties. "Understood, boss. Ambulances are at the church perimeter. We control the perimeter."

Barnaby trotted over, his golden coat damp with water and grime, nudging his nose urgently into Nicholas’s bleeding hand, letting out a soft, mournful whine. Nicholas managed a faint, bloody smile, scratching the dog behind his ears.

"Good boy, Barnaby," Nicholas whispered, his breathing shallow. "You're getting steak for the rest of your life."