The aftershock of the disarmed bomb still hummed in Hazel's veins as she gripped Michael's arm. Rain lashed against the glass far above, a relentless drumming that sounded like war drums calling them into the next round.
Michael's phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Connor.
"Security cam feed restored. Crowe spotted exiting through service tunnels beneath the north sector. He's injured. Moving fast."
Michael's jaw clenched.
"He's still in the city."
Hazel's blood boiled. "Then let's finish this."
Ava, slumped against the wall, spoke up, voice raw. "You… you don't get it. Liam doesn't run. He lures."
Michael turned to her sharply. "What do you mean?"
Ava lifted bloodshot eyes to them. "This was never about the tower. Or your company. He wanted you out in the open. Chasing him."
Hazel's stomach tightened. "Then where's the real play?"
Ava swallowed hard, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a crumpled envelope. "He made me deliver this to his guy an hour before you raided the club. I never saw who took it. But he said it was 'the trigger.' I don't know what it means, I swear."
Michael took the envelope, tearing it open.
Inside was a single photograph.
A teenage boy, bound and gagged, eyes terrified.
Ava's voice cracked. "My brother, Nathan."
But Hazel's sharp gaze caught something else — the background of the photo. A rusted, weathered sign half-visible behind the boy's head. She squinted.
"Michael. Look — the sign."
Michael focused. It was faint, but there.
'Pier 17 — Storage 04'
Michael's phone was already in his hand. "Connor, trace Pier 17's storage facility. I want eyes on every dock, every tunnel entrance, now."
Connor didn't hesitate. "Sending a team. ETA five minutes."
Hazel touched Michael's arm. "We go too."
His eyes met hers, stormy and resolute. "I'm not risking you again."
"I wasn't asking for permission," she shot back, fierce and unyielding.
And in that moment — bruised, exhausted, the city bleeding around them — Michael Graze let out a short, grim smile.
"Then stay close."
**
They moved fast.
The drive to the waterfront was a blur of flashing lights, sirens in the distance, and the city's night pulse pounding around them. Michael's men fanned out the moment they arrived.
Pier 17 loomed ahead, its decaying storage units lined up like metal coffins. The air stank of oil and salt.
Connor met them at the entrance. "One of our guys spotted Crowe heading inside ten minutes ago. No sign of Nathan yet."
Michael nodded. "Seal off the exits. He doesn't leave this pier."
Hazel's gun was already in her hand, adrenaline sharpening her senses. "Let's end this."
They moved in, Michael and Hazel flanking the main corridor, Connor's men sweeping the sides.
Inside, it was a labyrinth of rusted containers and oil drums. Flickering lights barely pierced the gloom.
And then — a faint, metallic clang.
Hazel froze. "There."
They rounded a corner and found Storage 04's door hanging slightly ajar.
Michael pushed it open slowly.
Inside, dim light spilled from a single overhead bulb, illuminating a chair in the center of the room.
Nathan sat there, alive — bruised but breathing, his eyes widening in shock and relief when he saw Ava behind them.
Ava rushed past, dropping to her knees to untie him. "I'm so sorry, Nathan. I'm so sorry."
Hazel scanned the room, every nerve on high alert.
"Where's Crowe?"
But a voice answered from the shadows.
"Right where I wanted you."
Liam Crowe stepped out from behind a stack of crates, a pistol in one hand, blood staining the side of his temple where Michael had struck him earlier.
"I gotta hand it to you, Graze," he smirked. "You always did know how to play hero."
Michael raised his gun, stone cold. "It ends here."
Liam's grin widened. "Does it, though?"
He gestured subtly — and Hazel saw it too late.
A secondary device, small but lethal, sat wired beneath Nathan's chair. The timer read 00:45.
Hazel's pulse rocketed.
"No—"
Michael moved, but Liam fired first, a wild shot grazing Michael's arm. Hazel fired back, catching Liam in the side. He staggered but didn't drop.
Nathan screamed as the timer counted down.
"Michael!" Hazel shouted.
And with grim, unflinching resolve, Michael lunged forward, tackling Liam Crowe to the ground as Hazel rushed for the bomb.
Connor's voice crackled over the comms. "Explosives team two minutes out!"
"Not enough," Hazel snarled.
She yanked the wires free, her heart in her throat.
If she cut the wrong one…
Michael and Liam struggled, fists and blood flying, until finally — Michael landed a savage blow that left Crowe unconscious.
00:05
Hazel snipped the final wire.
Silence.
No explosion.
Hazel collapsed back, shaking. "Holy hell."
Michael limped over, bloodied but alive. "You okay?"
She grinned weakly. "Told you I wasn't leaving you."
They looked down at the unconscious Crowe.
And Hazel whispered, "Checkmate."...