Chapter 2 - The Harbor King's Fury
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Five miles away, at Warehouse 7, Wesley Cain lowered his phone.
The three enforcers standing around him instantly froze. They had seen Wesley kill men without raising his voice, but they had never seen the look that settled over his face at that exact moment. It was the face of a man about to tear the world apart with his bare hands.
“Boss?” his underboss, Marco, asked cautiously. “Is something wrong at the docks?”
Wesley did not answer. He shoved his phone into his coat, turned on his heel, and walked straight toward his black armored sedan parked inside the bay.
“Clear the road to the hill,” Wesley ordered, his voice echoing off the corrugated steel walls like a crack of thunder. “Now.”
“Sir?” Marco stammered, scrambling after him. “What about the shipment from the Eastern Dock?”
“Burn it for all I care,” Wesley snarled as he opened the driver’s side door. “If anyone follows me without my permission, I’ll put a bullet through their knee.”
He slammed the door, revved the powerful V8 engine, and tore out of the warehouse, leaving black tire marks melted into the concrete floor.
The drive up the winding coastal road toward the Cain estate usually took fifteen minutes. Wesley did it in less than four. He ran three red lights, swerved past late-night delivery trucks, and didn't slow down until his heavy vehicle smashed through the wrought-iron gates at the entrance of the property.
His mind was a storm of rage and guilt. He had built an empire to protect his sister. He had slain enemies, conquered the harbor, and bought half the city's officials just to ensure Norah would never face danger.
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And all the while, he had invited the snake directly into her bedroom.
He parked on the front lawn, threw the door open, and drew his heavy custom sidearm from beneath his coat as he sprinted up the grand marble steps of his mansion.
