THE PAWN AND THE KING

19

Raeland's POV

The deep rumble of the engines echoed through the vast, empty port as our convoy of G-Wagons rolled to a halt. The port was a sprawling expanse, dotted with towering cargo cranes and stacked containers that created narrow, shadowy alleys. The air smelled of saltwater and rust, the dampness clinging to my skin. Even at this late hour, the lights above cast long, eerie shadows across the ground, flickering in the distance like something out of a nightmare.

I stepped out of the lead car, my boots crunching against the gravel. My men fanned out around me, forming a protective perimeter. The cold wind off the water cut through my coat, but the chill I felt came from something deeper. I scanned the area, my eyes darting across the dock, taking in every detail. There, near a stack of shipping containers, I saw them—Delacroix's men.

They were waiting, spread out in a loose line, their eyes fixed on us. I could see the gleam of weapons beneath their coats, but they didn't move. Not yet. This was a delicate game, and both sides knew the rules.

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest as I looked past them to the figure standing in the middle of it all—Valenti. The moment I saw her, it felt like the ground shifted beneath me. She was barely standing, her body swaying as if the wind itself could knock her over. Her hands were bound, her head hanging low. Even from this distance, I could see the bruises on her face, the dried blood at the corner of her mouth.

Rage boiled inside me, but I forced myself to stay calm. This wasn't the time for emotion. I had to be smart. For her.

Delacroix stepped forward, his presence like a snake slithering into view. He was flanked by four of his men, all of them standing tensely at the edge of the container line. His smile was sharp, cold, as he surveyed the scene, his gaze lingering on my men. "Raeland," he called, his voice carrying across the open space. "You've brought quite the entourage."

I didn't respond immediately. Instead, I motioned for my men to stay alert, spreading out strategically behind me. We weren't here to fight, but I wasn't taking any chances. I crossed the distance between us slowly, the heavy weight of the pendrive burning in my pocket.

Every step toward him felt like I was walking deeper into the lion's den. I could hear the faint sound of water lapping against the dock behind me, the distant echo of a ship's horn cutting through the night. I forced myself to keep my breathing steady, but my eyes never left Valenti. She was the only thing that mattered.

"Let her go," I said, my voice calm, controlled, despite the rage simmering underneath.

Delacroix raised an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk stretching wider, daring me to lose control. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Raeland. First, the deal." His voice oozed arrogance, but there was a twitch in his posture. His eyes flicked toward the convoy, and I caught the subtle movements of his men behind him. They were spread out in formation, a little too confidently. I could see it now—why they felt so sure of themselves. The containers surrounding us created a maze of shadows and tight spaces, perfect for an ambush. They had cover, enough to conceal their numbers.

For all their smugness, though, I could sense the tension beneath it. Their fingers hovered just a little too close to their weapons. They didn't like how exposed they were here, with the open water to their backs and the heavy metal cranes looming overhead. A trap, perhaps, but they knew if they moved too fast, my men would cut them down just as easily. We were both playing with fire.

I reached into my pocket, feeling the cool metal of the pendrive between my fingers. It was lighter than I expected, but the weight of what it represented—my father's sacrifice, everything I had built—dragged it down like lead. And now I was about to hand it over.