Chapter 26: Lina’s Last Move
Leo crouched behind a shattered crate on the west-side docks of Seattle, boots sliding on the weathered planks, their surfaces damp with saltwater and streaked with oil that glowed under the swaying sodium lamps, which threw a sickly yellow glow over the chaos—bullets still echoed from the remnants of the ambush. The air was thick—brine burned his nostrils, acrid and biting, combined with the bitter odor of gunpowder and the acidic tang of blood pooling on the pier, running into cracks and spilling into the dark water below. Waves crashed on pilings barnacled—obdurate—thundering like a war drum—wind howled in off Puget Sound, lashing chains draped on rusting cranes, its moans piercing the night—gulls screamed thinly, wheeling the dark sky above deserted warehouses, tin roofs sagging, windows smashed into jagged mouths open. His leather jacket clung to his shoulders—damp, torn—its musky scent lost in the docks’ decay, blood crusted on his shirt from carrying Vito—damn it—still warm—ribs ached—damn Serpents—damn Gia—damn everything. His chest burned—damn wolf—damn bond—damn Marco—rage and fear twisted deep, clawing at his ribs—Gia’s gun at Ezra’s head—“I’ll do it for you”—damn her—gunshot ringing—whose? —damn it—why’d it spiral? He thumb-spun his Zippo—flame danced—lit a cigarette, breathed out smoke for calming hands trembling with rage and terror, ember red—Vito's body—Ezra—Marco—cursed them—whose war?
His phone—fully charged—11:39 p.m., March 06, 2025—truce—shattered—damn it—whose blood next? A shot rang out, a quick, sharp report that shattered the nervous silence. Damn it, Lina, Gia's second, had turned. She'd fired, not at them, but at a Serpent, the bullet ripping through his chest, a widening red stain spreading on his shirt. He fell, his body hitting the weathered planks with a muted thud. Damn it, she'd rescued Marco. Leo stopped, his knife automatically spinning in his hand. Marco, his silk shirt torn and bloodied, his claws bloody, leapt forward. He was a whirlwind, his hand finding the Serpent's neck, a sickening crunch echoing through the air. Detached, methodical, a message delivered with lethal precision.
Damn it, he was proving a point. Lina staggered, her hand clutching her belly, a dark, wet stain spreading on her shirt. Damn her, why had she done this? Marco's voice, low and shocked, cut through the chaos. "Lina? "Damn him, he cursed, his voice genuinely shocked. Lina moaned, her voice broken and rent. "Gia… love her… damn it… turned." Damn it, love? The word vibrated with the silence of death and betrayal. Blood pooled on the planks beneath her, a dark, spreading stain. Damn her, she was dying. Marco's eyes darkened, a shadow of something unknowable crossing his face.".
"You idiot," he whispered, his voice low, a soft brush against her skin. Damn him, was that regret? Leo, his mind reeling, grabbed Ezra's arm. "Ezra, now!" he bellowed, pulling him away from the scene. Damn him, they had to move. He set off running, his boots booming against the creaking planks of the dock. Damn it, they couldn't stay. Marco stood riveted, his gaze fixed on Lina's crumpled form, his face expressionless. Damn her, whose side was she on?
Whose side were any of them on? The lines were blurred, the allegiances shattered, and the night was thick with the stench of blood and betrayal. The docks, once a hub of trade and commerce, had been reduced to a battleground, a platform for a deadly dance of power and revenge. Ezra stumbled, his arm a bloody mess, the wound wetly gleaming in the faint light. Damn it, the wound was bad, the flesh around it seared a raw, angry red. Silver? It burned, too hot, a searing pain that had him gasping. Damn him, he was losing it. "Silver-laced… damn it," he managed, his voice tight with pain. Leo, his own heart pounding with a mix of anger and fear, grabbed Ezra's arm, pulling him into the shadows. "Wait," he growled, his voice raspy with urgency. Damn it, they couldn't stay out in the open. He dragged Ezra toward a stack of crates, finding a shadowed alcove. Vito was propped against one of the crates, his chest a bloody mass. Damn him, he wasn't dead, not yet, his eyes fluttering weakly. Kid," he growled, his voice barely a whisper. Dammit, he was weak. "War… not… you… anymore… what… you… are," he spat, his voice in and out. Damned him, what did he mean? What was he? A wolf? Bound? Damned it, whose war was this?
Ezra moaned beside him, the silver burning, the pain etched on his face. Damned it, Gia knew about the silver? How? Gia was gone, vanished into the darkness of the docks. Her gun, no longer pointed at them, was nowhere to be seen. Damn her, her smirk was lost, replaced with a cold, calculating retreat. The Serpents, her loyal troops, had scattered, vanished into the night like rats from a sinking ship. Damn her, she'd left something behind, a document, aged and yellowed, its edges frayed and brittle.
Damn it, what was it? Which side was she working for? Whose game were they all in The docks, once a scene of commerce, now a scene of upheaval and betrayal, were still. The only sounds that could be heard were the soft lapping of the waves against the pilings and the low, ragged gasps of the wounded. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, a grim reminder of the violence that had just occurred.Leo's head reeled, trying to untangle the complicated mess of information, lies, secret agendas.unsignedDamn it, he needed answers, and he needed them now,unsignedBut with Vito dying, and Ezra in pain, he was rapidly running out of time.