The Gunshot
Chapter 20
The roads stretched dark and empty ahead of us, the hum of the tires against the pavement the only sound filling the car. My hands twisted together in my lap, restless, the skin of my knuckles rubbed raw from my nails digging into them. Cole’s focus was unshakable, his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw tight enough to crack.
I wanted to ask where we were going, what he had heard on that call, but something in his expression kept me quiet. Whatever this was, it was serious. The kind of serious that did not leave room for questions.
The city lights faded behind us, swallowed by the black sprawl of industrial streets. Warehouses lined the road, their windows dark, their empty parking lots littered with scraps of metal and broken glass. It felt like we had crossed into another world, one where silence carried weight and shadows watched from every corner.
Cole finally spoke, his voice low, controlled. “One of my contacts picked up chatter about a shipment. Cash, weapons, something big. It could mean nothing. Or it could mean they’re moving things around to make room for him.”
“Him,” I repeated, my throat tight. “You mean Kyle.”
His hands flexed on the steering wheel. “If they’re shifting assets, it usually means they’re preparing for a trade. Or to cut loose dead weight.”
The implication sank like a stone in my gut. I stared out the window, trying to steady my breathing, trying to cling to the thought that Kyle was still alive. That Cole was right.
We turned down a narrow street, its cracked asphalt gleaming faintly under the dim glow of a lone streetlight. Cole slowed the car to a crawl and cut the headlights, letting the vehicle roll silently forward.
“Stay quiet,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And stay down.”
My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat, but I did as he said, ducking slightly in the seat as the car crept toward a chain-link fence. Beyond it, a yard sprawled wide, littered with shipping containers stacked like a maze. A few dim lights flickered near a low building at the far end, and figures moved in and out, their movements sharp and purposeful.
Cole parked the car in the shadow of an abandoned trailer and killed the engine. For a moment, we sat in silence, the weight of the night pressing in around us.
“What now?” I whispered.
“Now,” he said, his eyes on the building, “we watch.”
Time stretched, every second taut with tension. Men came and went, loading crates into trucks, their voices carrying faintly in the stillness. From where I sat, I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I didn’t need to. The way Cole’s shoulders tensed told me enough.
Then, movement. A man stepped out of the building, tall, broad-shouldered, his presence commanding even from a distance. He barked an order, and the men around him snapped to attention. I didn’t know who he was, but the way everyone else looked at him told me he mattered.
Cole leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowed. “That’s one of their lieutenants,” he said. “Rourke. If he’s here, this isn’t just about a shipment. Something bigger is in play.”
The man lit a cigarette, the brief flare of the lighter illuminating his face for a heartbeat before darkness swallowed him again. He stood there for a while, watching his men work, before disappearing back inside the building.
Cole cursed under his breath and reached for his phone. “Stay here,” he said, opening the door.
Panic surged sharp and fast in my chest. “Wait. Where are you going?”
He didn’t look at me. “Closer. I need to hear what they’re saying.”
“Cole...” My voice cracked, fear choking the word. “What if they see you?”
“They won’t.” He paused, his eyes finally meeting mine, steady and sharp. “Stay in the car, Tess. No matter what you hear. No matter what happens. Do you understand?”
I swallowed hard and nodded, though every instinct screamed at me to grab his arm and not let go.
Then he was gone, moving like a shadow, his footsteps silent as he slipped into the darkness.
The car felt impossibly small without him. Every creak of metal, every whisper of wind set my nerves on fire. I sat rigid, my eyes darting between the building and the shadows where I’d last seen him. Minutes passed, slow and suffocating.
Then voices, faint but sharp, cut through the stillness. I couldn’t make out the words, but I knew Cole was closer now, close enough to hear whatever was being said inside that building.
A door slammed. Shouting followed, fast and furious, though still too muffled for me to make out. My pulse raced. I gripped the edge of the seat, my nails biting into the fabric, fighting the urge to throw the door open and run toward the noise.
Then, silence.
The kind of silence that felt heavy, dangerous.
And then, a gunshot.
My heart stopped.
I froze, every muscle locked tight, my mind screaming that I needed to do something, anything. But before I could move, the driver’s side door opened and Cole slid inside, his movements fast but controlled.
“Go,” he said, his voice sharp.
I didn’t ask questions. I just obeyed, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the keys and started the engine. The tires crunched over gravel as I turned the car around, and within seconds, the yard and its stacked containers disappeared behind us.
My breath came fast and shallow, my fingers tight around the steering wheel. “What happened?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Cole leaned back in the seat, his expression unreadable. “We’re running out of time,” he said finally. “They know someone is sniffing around. They’ll move him again. Soon.”
Him. Kyle. The name hovered on my tongue, but I didn’t say it.
“They mentioned a port,” Cole continued, his voice low. “Pier Twelve. Two nights from now. That’s where we’ll find our next lead.”
I swallowed hard, trying to quiet the storm in my chest. “And what if it’s a trap?”
His gaze slid to mine, sharp and steady. “Then we walk in anyway.”
The drive back to the safe house was quiet. Too quiet. My thoughts raced, colliding and tangling until they were nothing but a mess of fear and desperate hope. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kyle’s face. Every time I blinked, I saw the flash of light from that cigarette, the shadow of the man they called Rourke, and the way Cole’s expression had gone so cold when he slid back into the car.
By the time we reached the safe house, the sky was paling with the first hints of dawn. My body ached with exhaustion, but sleep felt impossible. Not when every nerve was alive with fear. Not when the clock was already ticking down to Pier Twelve.
Cole stayed near the window, phone in hand, his eyes scanning the street below like a predator waiting for a sign of movement. I sank onto the couch, pulling a blanket tight around me, and tried to find steady ground in the chaos.
Somewhere out there, Kyle was alive.
Somewhere out there, someone knew exactly what game they were playing.
And for the first time, I wondered if I was ready for the answers we were going to find.