Collateral Blood

23

The SUV rolled to a stop at the edge of the harbour, the engine humming low as Harry killed the lights. The air was thick with the scent of saltwater, and the moon cast a silver glow over the empty docks. It was late—well past midnight—but the Black Vipers would be there soon. Harry's crew had arranged an ambush, and now they were waiting in the shadows.

Sloan shifted in her seat, her eyes flicking to Harry's profile. The cold night air seemed to seep through the SUV's windows, but all she could focus on was the simmering tension between them. His sharp jawline, the way his brown hair fell just right, those green eyes that seemed to pierce through everything—she hated how drawn she felt to him, even now. Even after everything.

But she had made her decision. She wasn't just a pawn in this game anymore. If her father had been lying to her all her life, then maybe she didn't owe him her loyalty. She would help Harry take him down. Maybe that was the only way she could make sense of everything. Maybe that was how she'd get her life back.

Harry turned to her, breaking her thoughts. "Stay sharp," he murmured. "When the Vipers show, I need you ready."

Sloan nodded, though her stomach twisted in knots. "And what if they spot us before we're ready?"

"They won't." Harry's confidence was unnerving, but somehow reassuring at the same time. "You've got your gun strapped to your leg, remember?"

She nodded again, feeling the weight of the firearm against her thigh. She hadn't taken it off since Harry had buckled it there. His hands had been steady, sure, and despite everything, she had felt that spark of attraction again. The brush of his fingers against her skin had made her pulse race. She hated herself for it, but there it was.

"I'm ready," she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

Harry glanced at her, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. He was about to say something when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, his face hardening as he saw the name on the screen.

Zayn.

He answered it quickly, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between them as Zayn spoke on the other end.

"They're on their way," Zayn said, his voice calm but urgent. "We've got eyes on the docks. Three cars, maybe more."

"Good," Harry replied, keeping his voice low. "Tell Tom to stick to the plan. We don't move until they've stepped out of their vehicles. Then we hit them."

"Understood." Zayn's voice crackled through the line before the call ended.

Harry pocketed his phone, then leaned back in his seat, staring out at the empty harbour. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as if he were trying to force himself to focus. But Sloan could feel it—something was weighing on him.

"What's going to happen after this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry didn't look at her immediately. His eyes stayed on the water, watching the gentle waves lap against the dock. "Depends on how tonight goes."

She bit her lip, hating the uncertainty of it all. But before she could press him for more, something caught her eye—movement across the lot. She leaned forward, squinting through the darkness.

A figure, a silhouette in the distance, moving cautiously towards the water. Her breath caught in her throat.

"No," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Harry looked at her sharply. "What is it?"

Sloan's heart pounded in her chest as the figure drew closer. She couldn't see their face clearly, but she knew that walk. That stride.

It was someone from her old life.

"Harry," she breathed, her voice tight. "I think I know them."

Harry frowned, following her gaze. The figure was getting closer now, still too far to see in detail but unmistakably familiar to Sloan. The way they moved, the way they held themselves—it brought memories flooding back in an instant. It couldn't be. Not here. Not now.

"What do you mean you know them?" Harry demanded, his voice low and urgent.

Sloan swallowed hard, her mind racing. "That's... that's my old boss. From the restaurant."

Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked back at the figure. "You're sure?"

"Yes," she whispered, her mind spinning. "But why would they be here?"

Suddenly, the pieces clicked together in her mind. Her boss had always been friendly, always asking about her family, about her father. Too friendly, maybe. Had they been keeping tabs on her all this time? Feeding information to someone else? Her blood ran cold at the thought.

"They're not supposed to be here," she whispered. "Something's wrong."

Harry's gaze hardened. "Stay in the car."

Without waiting for her response, he opened the door and stepped out, moving towards the shadows. Sloan watched as he disappeared into the darkness, her heart hammering in her chest. What was her old boss doing here? Were they connected to her father somehow? Or was this just a coincidence? She couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to spiral out of control.

She gripped the handle of her gun, her fingers trembling as she stared at the figure in the distance. If this was all connected—if her father had been watching her through people she trusted—then maybe she had been a pawn in this game for far longer than she realised.

And if that was true, then maybe she wasn't just here for revenge anymore. Maybe she was here to tear everything down.

Harry slipped into the shadows, his senses on high alert as he approached the figure. He kept his movements silent, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of a trap. But there was nothing. Just the figure, standing at the edge of the water, staring out at the waves.

He was close enough now to see their face—an older man, probably in his fifties, with a tired expression and eyes that held too many secrets.

"Who the fuck are you?" Harry growled, stepping out of the darkness and making his presence known.

The man didn't flinch. He turned slowly, his gaze meeting Harry's with a look of resignation. "I'm nobody," he said quietly. "Just a messenger."

"A messenger for who?" Harry demanded, his hand hovering near his waistband, ready to draw his weapon.

The man's eyes flicked towards the SUV where Sloan was waiting. "For her father."

Harry's jaw tightened, rage bubbling up inside him. "What does he want?"

The man sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know the details. I was just told to come here, to make sure she's still alive."

Harry's blood boiled at the thought of Lucas still pulling the strings, still trying to control everything from the shadows. But this time, it wasn't going to work. He wasn't going to let Lucas get away with it.

"She's alive," Harry said coldly. "But that's all you're getting."

The man nodded, turning back towards the water. "I figured as much."

Without another word, Harry turned on his heel and walked back towards the SUV. He needed to focus on the plan, needed to keep his head in the game. But as he approached the car, his eyes landed on Sloan, sitting there with her gun in her lap, staring at him with a look he couldn't quite place.

And for a moment, just a moment, he let himself wonder if maybe—just maybe—he wasn't in control of this game after all.