Chapter 9 - Midnight at the West PierThe west pier had been abandoned for nearly a decade.
Its warehouses stood empty against the river, their windows broken and their loading doors rusted. Fog drifted between the buildings, swallowing the streetlights and turning every distant shape into a potential threat.
Nathan arrived shortly before midnight.
He wore a dark coat over a bulletproof vest. Calder sat in the front passenger seat, speaking quietly into a concealed radio. Two vehicles followed at a distance, carrying men who had been instructed not to approach unless the extraction signal was given.
I sat beside Nathan in the back of the lead car.
Lily wasn't with us.
That had been the only condition I refused to negotiate.
She was in the north safehouse with a trusted nurse and two guards who had no connection to the Blackwood family. Nathan had initially argued that keeping her away from us would make her vulnerable.
I had reminded him that bringing an infant into an ambush was not protection.
He had accepted my decision.
Now he was staring at the dark warehouse ahead.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
“I know how to follow instructions.”
He glanced at me.
“Your history suggests otherwise.”
“Your history suggests you should have learned to give better instructions.”
For a brief moment, his mouth twitched.
Then the expression disappeared.
The car stopped.
Calder opened the door.
“Two heat signatures inside the warehouse. Possibly three. No vehicles nearby.”
Nathan stepped onto the pavement.
I followed.
The night air smelled of salt, oil, and wet concrete. Somewhere beneath the pier, water slapped against the pilings.
At the warehouse entrance, Nathan stopped.
“Grace.”
I looked at him.
“If anything goes wrong, you leave with Calder.”
“No.”
His gaze sharpened.
“That's not a request.”
“Neither is my sister's life.”
He studied me for a long moment.
Then he gave a small, resigned nod.
“Stay close.”
We entered the building.
A single light hung above the center of the warehouse, illuminating a metal chair and a small wooden table.
Emily sat in the chair.
Her wrists were bound.
Her face was pale, and her hair hung in tangled strands around her shoulders.
“Emily!”
She lifted her head.
“Grace?”
I ran toward her.
A man stepped out of the shadows and aimed a gun at my chest.
Nathan moved faster.
He struck the man's wrist, knocked the weapon away, and drove him against a support beam. Calder seized the attacker while Nathan hurried toward Emily.
I reached my sister first.
“Oh, God.”
I dropped to my knees and pulled her against me.
She was thinner than I remembered. Her wrists were bruised, and she trembled so violently that I could barely hold her.
“I thought you were dead,” I sobbed.
Emily pressed her face into my shoulder.
“I tried to get back to you.”
“Who did this?”
She shook her head.
“Not here.”
Nathan cut the restraints.
“Can you walk?”
Emily nodded weakly.
Then she saw him.
Her expression changed.
For a moment, she looked almost relieved.
Then terror took over.
“Get away from me.”
Nathan stopped.
“Emily, I'm not going to hurt you.”
She backed against the chair.
“You shouldn't have come.”
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
Emily looked at Nathan.
“He told me you would bring Grace here. He said you would come because you still believe family means something.”
Nathan's jaw tightened.
“Who told you?”
Emily closed her eyes.
A sound came from the darkness behind the warehouse door.
Slow, deliberate applause.
A man stepped into the light.
He wore a tailored charcoal suit and carried a black cane with a silver handle. His hair was completely white, and his face was lined with age.
Nathan went still.
I had seen that face in photographs throughout the mansion.
Thomas Blackwood.
The father who had supposedly died fifteen years ago.
The man who had supposedly been buried in a sealed coffin.
The man Nathan had spent his entire adult life trying to surpass.
He smiled at his son.
“You came.”
Nathan raised his weapon.
“Put your hands where I can see them.”
Thomas laughed softly.
“Still giving orders. You always were my stubborn boy.”
“Where is Daniel?”
Thomas tilted his head.
“Alive, unfortunately.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere you cannot reach him.”
Nathan took one step forward.
Thomas's smile faded.
“Don't mistake this reunion for a negotiation. Your men are outside. Mine are watching them. If anyone enters this warehouse, your sister-in-law loses her head.”
He glanced at me.
“Though I suppose she isn't your sister-in-law anymore.”
Nathan's face turned murderous.
“Say her name again.”
Thomas raised his hands slightly.
“There's the son I remember.”
I stood beside Emily, supporting her with one arm.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Thomas studied me with cold curiosity.
“Grace Miller. The housekeeper who thought she could hide a Blackwood heir beneath a laundry cart.”
He looked toward Nathan.
“You've always had terrible taste in women, son.”
Nathan moved toward him.
“Careful.”
Thomas ignored him.
“Do you know why I wanted the child dead?”
My throat tightened.
“Because you were afraid she'd inherit Nathan's empire.”
Thomas smiled.
“No. Empires can be divided. Money can be stolen. Businesses can be sold. My concern was much simpler.”
He pointed his cane toward Nathan.
“My son was becoming human.”
Nathan's weapon remained steady.
Thomas continued.
“A man who loves a woman can be manipulated. A man who loves a child can be controlled. I spent years teaching Nathan that affection was a liability, and you destroyed that lesson by giving him something he could never afford to lose.”
He looked at Lily's empty place beside me, as if he could see her from across the city.
“So I arranged the shooting. I arranged Daniel's disappearance. I arranged the threats. And when the child arrived, I made certain every person who might identify her as a Blackwood understood the consequences.”
Emily began shaking.
I looked at her.
“What did he mean when he said you knew which son survived?”
She stared at the floor.
Thomas answered for her.
“Your sister was present the night Daniel returned from the dead.”
Nathan's expression shifted.
“Daniel was at the estate that night?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Thomas tapped his cane against the concrete.
“Wouldn't you like to know?”
Nathan fired a shot into the floor beside Thomas's shoe.
Emily screamed.
Thomas didn't move.
“You won't kill me,” he said. “Not until you understand what happened to your brother.”
He reached inside his coat and withdrew a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed two men standing beside a black car.
Nathan.
And Daniel.
Both were covered in blood.
Both appeared to be holding weapons.
Thomas handed the photograph to Nathan.
“Your brother wasn't the victim of the explosion, son.”
May you like
Nathan's face drained of color.
“He was the one who planted the bomb.”
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