Chapter 18 - Blood on the Iron
I walked slowly into the center of the railyard, keeping my hands clearly visible at shoulder height.
"Let Elena go, Arthur," I said, my voice steady despite the cold wind biting my face. "She has nothing to do with Rollins Global. She has nothing to do with what happened fifteen years ago."
"Everything is connected, Sabrina," Arthur snarled, his thumb pulling back the hammer of the revolver. "Your father disgraced my name. He put me in a cage like an animal. My wife died of cancer while I was behind bars, and the state wouldn't even let me attend her funeral."
"Your wife died because you spent her medical trust on illegal short positions!" I shouted back, stepping forward. "You ruined your own family, Arthur. You groomed Kenneth to be a thief, and you threw him away the second he got caught. You are nothing but a coward who hides behind hired thugs and young women."
Arthur's eyes flared with unhinged fury. "Kill her!" he roared to his enforcers.
Before the hitmen could raise their rifles, a blinding spotlight flooded the railyard from the roof of the depot.
"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" a loudspeaker blared.
Gunfire ripped through the freezing night. Vincent and the tactical team opened fire from elevated sniper positions, instantly incapacitating the two armed enforcers standing near Sterling.
"Justin, now!" I screamed.
Justin bolted from the shadows, tackling the guard holding Elena and rolling her behind the heavy iron wheels of an old coal car.
Arthur panicked. He fired wildly toward me, the bullet grazing the concrete inches from my boot. He turned and sprinted toward an open warehouse at the end of the tracks, clutching the titanium briefcase he had snatched from Sterling’s fallen grip.
"Sabrina, don't!" Vincent shouted through the radio.
I didn't listen. Adrenaline completely took over.
I sprinted across the gravel, kicking open the rusted corrugated door of the warehouse and diving inside just as Arthur swung around with his gun.
He pulled the trigger, but the chamber clicked empty. He had fired his last round.
Arthur cursed, hurling the empty revolver at my head. I ducked, the heavy metal scraping my shoulder.
He lunged at me with feral desperation, grabbing me by the throat and slamming my back against a wooden support pillar. His grip was shockingly strong, suffocating the air from my lungs.
"You should have stayed in your pretty office, little girl," Arthur hissed, his face inches from mine, his breath reeking of venom and tobacco.
Darkness crept around the edges of my vision. My fingers clawed frantically against his wrists, but I couldn't break his hold.
My right hand brushed against a heavy, rusted industrial chain hanging from an overhead pulley.
Gathering every ounce of strength, rage, and survival instinct left in my body, I grabbed the heavy iron chain and whipped it across Arthur's face.
The steel links struck with a brutal, sickening crunch.
Arthur screamed, releasing my neck as blood burst from his shattered nose. He stumbled backward onto the concrete floor.
I fell to my knees, gasping for air, coughing violently.
Arthur reached into his boot, pulling a serrated combat knife. He scrambled to his feet, lunging toward me to finish the kill.
I didn't hesitate. I swung the heavy iron chain again, wrapping it around his ankles and violently yanking backward.
Arthur lost his footing, his head crashing against the concrete with a dull thud. The knife clattered out of his reach.
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I scrambled to my feet, picked up a heavy iron pipe from the floor, and pressed the blunt end hard against Arthur's throat, pinning him to the ground.
"It's over, Arthur," I panted, blood dripping from my lip. "The Rollins family wins."
