Unexpected Rendezvous

IT ENDS NOW

*Alistair's POV*

Dock 14 loomed ahead, draped in darkness and salt-soaked air. The wind off the Thames cut like a knife, carrying with it the scent of rust, oil, and something far more primal: fear. Rain sluiced off the steel containers, tapping a rhythmic warning against the silence.

I stood with Fraser and two members of my security detail in the shadows of a derelict cargo lift. Further out, barely visible in the mist, were unmarked vans belonging to Scotland Yard. Harry stood beside one, binoculars up, a headset on, coordinating with his team.

"Any movement?" I asked, voice low.

He nodded once. "We've got visuals. Two armed individuals inside. One female, one male. Vasilisa and Rick Donatello. They're both volatile. We saw them beating Alex and Rowena endlessly, fifteen minutes ago."

My stomach clenched.

I turned to Fraser. "Prep the signal. We go in when I say. No mistakes. No loose ends."

He nodded and melted back into the shadows.

Then I stepped forward into the open, just far enough to be seen under the pale, flickering lamp by the warehouse entrance. The door creaked open.

"Donatello! Vasilisa!" I called out, my voice ringing across the rain-slick concrete. "Let's talk."

There was a pause. Then Rick's voice echoed from inside. "You? Gallert Alistair Hammond? You've got some goddamn nerve!"

"I'm here with a proposition," I said. "A clean way out."

Another pause. Then the door groaned wider. Vasilisa emerged, gun in hand, her hair wild and soaked, eyes burning.

"Why should we trust you?" she hissed.

"Because I'm offering something better than death or a prison cell." I raised my hand slowly, showing I was unarmed. "Ten million pounds. Offshore. Clean. A jet waiting at Stansted. Destination: Barbados. No questions asked. No chase."

Rick stepped out behind her, dragging Alexander forward with a gun pressed to his temple. Rowena was slumped nearby, bloodied, barely conscious, her hands still bound.

Seeing my son like that nearly broke me.

But I kept my face cold.

"You think we're stupid?" Rick snarled. "You think you can buy us off and send the Yard after us anyway?"

"You know my reputation, Rick," I said softly. "If I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be talking."

Vasilisa looked uncertain. Her fingers twitched.

"You don't have to do this," I added, locking eyes with her. "Take the money. Disappear. Start over."

"Bullshit!" Rick shouted.

In that moment, he moved to pull the trigger.

Crack! A shot rang out.

Rick stumbled, a hole in his chest blooming crimson. A second shot. Vasilisa screamed and fell, the gun flying from her hand.

From the shadows, Fraser and Harry emerged, weapons still raised.

I ran forward.

"Alex!"

He was crumpled on the ground, breathing heavily but alive.

"Rowena?"

"I'm here," she whispered hoarsely.

Bryan and Lucius rushed in next, helping unbind them as medical officers stormed the room.

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*Alexander's POV*

Pain. That's what I remembered first. A deep, burning ache in my ribs, the taste of blood in my mouth. And then, light. Flashlights. Boots on metal. Voices yelling my name.

"Alexander!"

And then I saw him. My father. Gallert Alistair Hammond.

He crouched beside me, his usually unreadable face lined with something I had rarely seen on him: panic.

"You stubborn bastard," he said, voice cracking.

I coughed. "Took you long enough."

He let out a short breath that might have been a laugh, might have been a sob.

Paramedics surrounded us. Someone checked my pulse, someone else lifted Rowena onto a stretcher. She cried out, weakly, and I turned toward her.

"I'm okay," she said, eyes searching for mine. "You're okay. We're okay."

For the first time in what felt like days, I believed it.

As they lifted us both into separate ambulances, I watched my father give final orders to the officers. Calm. Controlled. Ruthless. The man I had feared most of my life—and yet, tonight, he had become our savior.

I was barely conscious by the time the ambulance doors shut, but I heard him call out:

"I'll meet you at St. Michael's."

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Hours Later: Hospital Room

The beep of monitors, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the warmth of Rowena's hand in mine.

We were both patched up. Her face had bruises, a split lip. My ribs were wrapped, and stitches lined my forehead.

But we were alive.

Alistair walked in just as the first rays of dawn broke through the blinds.

"You look like hell," I said.

"And you look like my son again," he replied, before adding, "Which is equally worrying."

Rowena smiled faintly.

Alistair stood at the edge of the bed, a stiffness in his posture that gave way slowly.

"I never want to live another night like this," he said. "But if I had to, I'd burn down the entire world again to get you both back."

For once, I didn't doubt him.

"Thank you," I said.

He nodded, then looked to Rowena.

"Get well. And next time... don't let this idiot get himself playing the 'hero' ever again."

She chuckled softly. "I'll try."

He left then, coat sweeping behind him.

But I knew it wasn't over.

Something had changed in him. In me. In all of us.

And the reckoning still waited.

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What do you think about the climax? Was it too short? Communicate with me... I'll be working on the closing and LAST chapter for this; but I'm already preparing my next works - yes... you heard it right... works... plural... I'll be writing and posting more often. I appreciate you sticking by me, even though this story has been long due. You readers, are the reason why I want to keep doing this. XOXO