Chapter 6 - The Brother Who Came Back From the Dead
Pier Nine looked abandoned at midnight.
It was not.
Arthur had placed men inside warehouses, cranes, parked trucks, and two tugboats.
Federal agents waited three blocks away after receiving an anonymous package containing enough evidence to make them interested but not enough to reveal Daniel’s existence.
Clara stood inside Warehouse C wearing a bulletproof vest.
Arthur hated it.
“You should be farther back.”
Clara checked her weapon.
“You should learn new sentences.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Arthur looked at her.
She had barely spoken to him since Boston.
Yet she remained beside him because Daniel’s survival required cooperation.
Arthur had learned something painful.
Having Clara near him without possessing her trust was worse than her absence.
A ship horn sounded.
Clara stopped breathing.
A small cargo vessel moved toward the pier.
Sebastian checked binoculars.
“That’s it.”
The vessel docked.
A lone figure emerged.
Thin.
Bearded.
Carrying a canvas bag.
Clara’s weapon lowered.
“Daniel.”
She ran.
Arthur almost stopped her.
Almost.
Then he understood that some moments did not belong to him.
Clara crossed the wet concrete.
Daniel saw her.
He froze.
Twelve years disappeared.
“Ellie?”
Clara broke.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
She ran into her brother’s arms and sobbed against his shoulder.
Daniel held her as though trying to recover every year at once.
Arthur watched from fifty feet away.
He had seen Clara injured.
Furious.
Exhausted.
He had never seen her cry.
Not even when he deliberately broke her heart.
The knowledge sickened him.
Daniel pulled back and touched her face.
“You grew up.”
Clara laughed through tears.
“So did you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“I should have found you.”
“You survived.”
She gripped his coat.
“That’s enough.”
Daniel looked beyond her.
Saw Arthur.
His expression hardened instantly.
“Why is he here?”
Clara turned.
Before she could answer, the first explosion struck the pier.
A truck erupted in flames.
“Down!”
Arthur sprinted toward Clara.
Bullets raked the dock.
Vincent’s men emerged from two warehouse roofs.
It had been a trap.
Just not Arthur’s.
Arthur reached Clara and Daniel as Sebastian returned fire.
“Inside!”
Daniel clutched the canvas bag.
“They want this!”
“I assumed!”
Arthur pushed them behind a steel container.
Another explosion shook the dock.
Salvatore shouted into his radio.
“Federal teams moving!”
Arthur looked toward the access road.
Too slow.
Vincent stepped from behind a line of shipping containers with six armed men.
Older than Arthur by twenty years, Vincent Costello wore an expensive overcoat and the expression of a disappointed father.
“Arthur.”
Arthur raised his weapon.
“Uncle.”
Vincent smiled.
“You’re embarrassing the family.”
“You murdered Thomas Mercer.”
“He was a liability.”
Clara’s face went white with rage.
Daniel gripped her arm.
Vincent saw them.
“Ah. The surviving children.”
Arthur moved slightly, blocking his view.
Vincent laughed.
“You’re protecting her?”
“Yes.”
“After she infiltrated your house?”
“Yes.”
“After she lied to you for five years?”
Arthur’s gaze never moved.
“Yes.”
Clara looked at him.
Vincent shook his head.
“Your father would be disgusted.”
“My father is dead.”
“And apparently so is your judgment.”
Vincent lifted his weapon.
Arthur fired first.
Chaos erupted.
Daniel dragged Clara behind the container.
Sebastian hit one attacker.
Salvatore hit another.
Arthur moved toward Vincent.
A bullet struck Arthur’s side.
He stumbled.
Clara saw it.
“Arthur!”
He remained standing.
Vincent fired again.
Arthur fell to one knee.
Something inside Clara reacted before reason could intervene.
She left cover.
“Ellie!” Daniel shouted.
Clara fired twice.
Vincent retreated.
Arthur collapsed.
Clara reached him.
Blood spread beneath his shirt.
“No.”
Arthur looked almost amused.
“You always hated when I bled on the good shirts.”
“Shut up.”
She pressed both hands against the wound.
Arthur winced.
Sirens screamed closer.
Daniel arrived beside them.
“Agents are coming.”
Arthur looked at Clara.
“Go with him.”
“What?”
“Take Daniel. Leave.”
“I’m not leaving you bleeding on a dock.”
His gray eyes held hers.
“You should.”
She pressed harder.
“Arthur.”
“I meant what I said in Boston.”
“Which part?”
“Your brother comes first.”
His breathing became shallow.
Clara felt terror move through her.
Not because Arthur was her employer.
Not because she owed him anything.
Because despite everything—
she still loved the impossible bastard.
“Stay awake.”
His eyes began closing.
Clara slapped his cheek lightly.
“Arthur.”
He opened them.
“Still hovering.”
Tears burned her eyes.
“Try complaining again and I’ll let you die.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“There she is.”
Then his body went limp.
“Arthur?”
No response.
“Arthur!”
Federal agents flooded the pier.
Clara kept her hands against his wound.
For five years, she had believed the worst thing Arthur Costello could do was break her heart.
May you like
She had been wrong.
The worst thing he could do was die before she decided whether to forgive him.
