The Brooklyn Navy Yard was draped in heavy fog, the rusted hulls of forgotten ships looming like leviathans in the dark. I walked into the cavernous space of Pier 44 entirely alone, the click of my stiletto heels echoing against the concrete.
Julian stood under a single, swaying halogen bulb, grasping the wrench tightly. Behind him, emerging from the shadows, was Khloe. She no longer played the whiny mistress. She held a suppressed tactical pistol, her posture screaming professional killer.
And flanking them were thirty heavily armed, hardened mercenaries. Khloe’s “cleaners.” Supplied by the local underworld boss, Dominic Russo, who had allied with Julian out of greed.
“You actually came,” Julian laughed, a jagged, psychotic sound. “The great Boss of Starlight, walking right into her own grave for a maid.”
“Let Martha go, Julian. This is between us,” I said, stopping twenty paces away, my voice eerily calm.
“Let her go?” Julian sneered, stepping forward. “You took my company. You took my dignity. Tonight, I take your life, and I take those schematics back.”
Khloe raised her weapon, aiming it directly at my chest. “You should have died on that operating table, Stella. You’re a resilient little roach, I’ll give you that. But your money can’t stop bullets.”
“Kill her!” Julian screamed at the mercenaries. “Fire!”
The warehouse fell deathly silent. Not a single gunshot rang out. The ambient sound of the foghorn in the distance seemed to mock Julian’s command.
Julian turned around, his face pale. “I said fire! Dominic paid you! Shoot her!”
The captain of the mercenary squad, a hulking man with a scarred face, slowly lowered his rifle. He ignored Julian completely and walked past him, stopping exactly three feet in front of me.
With the heavy clatter of combat gear, the massive captain dropped to a single knee and bowed his head.
“Boss,” the captain rumbled. “The area is secured.”
Julian’s brain short-circuited. He stumbled backward, dropping the wrench. Khloe’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated panic. She frantically aimed her pistol at the captain, but before she could pull the trigger, three sniper shots rang out simultaneously from the rafters, shattering the gun in her hand and piercing both her kneecaps.
She collapsed to the concrete with a blood-curdling shriek.
Julian fell to his knees, staring at the mercenaries, then at me. His reality was shattering for the final time.
“Did you really think,” I began, my voice echoing in the massive space, “that I would let the New York underworld operate without my permission? Starlight Capital doesn’t just own banks, Julian. We own the shadows. Every mercenary, every hitman Dominic Russo sent you tonight… they have been on my payroll for five years.”
I walked slowly toward him, looking down at the pathetic, broken shell of a man.
“You thought you were a brilliant spy. You thought you manipulated a naive girl,” I whispered, the coldness in my eyes freezing his soul. “But you were just playing in a sandbox I built for you. You funded your own destruction with my money, hired my men to kill me, and delivered the syndicate’s handler right into federal custody.”
Suddenly, the massive bay doors of the warehouse slid open. Sebastian Pierce strode in, flanked by dozens of federal agents. They flooded the room, dragging a weeping, terrified Dominic Russo in cuffs.
Sebastian walked up to Khloe, who was writhing in a pool of her own blood, and tossed a federal indictment onto her chest. “Khloe Montgomery. You are under arrest for international espionage, treason, and conspiracy to commit murder. You’ll never see the sun again.”
Julian looked up at me, his eyes completely hollow, his sanity officially broken. He reached out a trembling, bloodstained hand, attempting to grab the hem of my dress.
“Stella… please… I loved you. I really did…” he babbled incoherently.
I didn’t even flinch. I stepped back, letting the federal agents violently tackle him to the concrete.
“Take this trash away,” I said coldly, turning my back on him. The curse of a dead man meant nothing to a queen.
Chapter 6: The Epilogue of Stars
At my 3-month ultrasound, I overheard my husband order the doctor: “Abor it and remove her uterus. Only Khloe will bear my heir!” Just as the lethal syring was about to pierc my skin, I shattered a glass vial, slashed my restraints, and struck the doctor in the throat right as the clinic wall exploded…
Part 5 of 6
