The heavy ordnance tube rested on Levon Karras’s shoulder, a black maw pointed directly at Goran Ozer. Rain sluiced down Levon’s face, tracing paths through the grim set of his features, but his gaze, sharp as obsidian shards, was fixed solely on Senna. The air thrummed with a coiled, deadly energy, the Karras enforcers fanning out, their weapons already raised. One word, one subtle gesture from Levon, and the pier would erupt.
“Senna.” Levon’s voice cut through the downpour, devoid of inflection, yet carrying a chilling weight. “Step away from him.”
Goran Ozer, caught in the sudden, blinding glare, flinched, his eyes darting between Senna and the terrifying weapon. His men, a smaller, less disciplined unit, instinctively reached for their own sidearms, but the sheer number of Karras enforcers had them pinned, outmatched.
Senna felt the optical sight bore toward her, a phantom pressure against her ribs. She didn’t move. Instead, she took another step, placing herself squarely between Levon and Goran. The rain plastered her hair to her temples, her dress clinging to her form.
“No,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, though a tremor ran through her limbs. “Not until you hear me.”
Levon’s eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tensing, a visible ripple of fury. The enforcers shifted, their grip tightening on their rifles. The rain seemed to intensify, drumming a frantic rhythm on the corrugated metal of the docks.
“You challenge me,” Levon stated, his tone dropping to a dangerous hush, “for a man who tried to kill you tonight. For the man who ordered the assault on my home.”
“He’s not just a rival,” Senna countered, her gaze unwavering. “His son is dying, Levon. Tomas stole the drug vials his child needs to live. It’s an experimental immunosuppressant, hidden in the cargo. You saw it in your own ledger. Goran is fighting for his child’s life, just as I’m fighting for Tomas’s.”
A low murmur rippled through the Karras ranks. Goran himself stared at Senna, his face a mask of disbelief and dawning comprehension. He hadn't expected her to reveal the truth, let alone shield him.
Levon’s face remained impassive, but his grip on the rocket launcher shifted, a minute adjustment that did nothing to ease the tension. “A child’s cure,” he repeated, the words tasting foreign on his tongue. “And you expect me to believe this man, who has spilled Karras blood, on your word?”
“It’s not a belief, it’s a fact,” Senna insisted, her voice rising above the din of the rain. “We found it in your shipping manifests. This isn’t about territory anymore, Levon. This is about a child’s last chance. If you burn this pier, you burn his hope. You burn any chance of finding that medicine before it’s too late.”
She saw the internal battle raging in his eyes – the primal possessiveness, the brutal fury, warring with something else, something she rarely saw directed at anyone but her: a strange, almost reluctant willingness to listen. His devotion was terrifying, unyielding, but it was also a tether. He would burn the world for her, and she was using that fire, trying to redirect it.
Finally, with a soft click that resonated in the sudden hush, Levon lowered the tube. His men, rigid with anticipation, relaxed infinitesimally. The weapon was still in his hand, but it was no longer aimed. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, his eyes boring into hers. The rain streaked his face, making him look wild, dangerous, but his gaze held a fierce question.
“A truce,” Senna pushed, her voice barely a whisper now. “Just long enough to find the medicine. For the child.”
Levon studied her for a long moment, the intensity of his stare almost suffocating. He then shifted his gaze to Goran Ozer, a cold, calculating assessment. Goran, still stunned, could only nod, a silent, desperate plea.
“Bring the brother,” Levon commanded, his voice raw. “And the woman. We will discuss this…truce…at the estate.”
***
The Karras Estate’s medical wing was usually pristine, antiseptic. Tonight, it reeked of stale blood and fear. Tomas lay on a cot, his face pale, a clean bandage wrapped around his arm where a stray bullet had grazed him. He was lucky; many of Halm’s men hadn’t been.
Senna stood over him, her expression grim. Brida sat on a nearby stool, her head in her hands, still shaken from the ambush at the docks, but unharmed. Levon had ensured her safe passage, though his gaze had lingered on her, a silent question Senna couldn’t decipher.
“Where is it, Tomas?” Senna’s voice was low, devoid of its usual warmth. “The cooler. The medicine. Where did you hide it?”
Tomas flinched, rubbing his bandaged arm. “Senna, I…I don’t know. We moved it around so much. So much chaos. I just grabbed the first thing I saw.” He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I swear, I didn’t know what was inside. Just thought it was more of the usual, something we could fence quickly.”
“The usual doesn’t keep a child alive,” Senna snapped, her patience worn thin. Thoughts of Goran’s son, alongside a desperate truce hanging by a thread, pressed hard upon her. “Think, Tomas! Where did you put it? Who helped you offload it?”
Brida’s head shot up. Her eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, darted between Tomas and Senna, a flicker of raw panic in their depths. “I… I helped him,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
Senna turned, her gaze sharp. “You were there? Why didn’t you say anything? What do you know about that cooler?”
Brida looked at Tomas, then away, her face crumpling. Tears welled, thick and fast, tracing clean paths down her grimy cheeks. “I… I helped him plan it,” she choked out, her shoulders shaking. “The whole thing.”
Senna stared, disbelief warring with a sudden, sickening dread. Brida? Her loyal, quiet friend? “Why?”
Brida let out a ragged sob. The sterile room seemed to close in around them, the scent of antiseptic suddenly suffocating. Her gaze found Tomas again, lingering with an aching, raw tenderness that Senna had never truly acknowledged, but now saw, sharp and undeniable.
*The neon glow of the Skala District cast long, shifting shadows across Brida’s face as she watched Tomas from across the crowded shisha lounge. He was laughing, flirting with a girl whose dress was too short, whose laughter was too loud. Brida’s stomach twisted. She’d loved him for years, a quiet, fervent devotion he never seemed to notice. He was reckless, impulsive, always chasing the next high, the next easy score, spiraling deeper into debt with the street gangs. He wanted out of the slums, out of Belzanto, but he never had the means, never the discipline. Brida did. She listened, she observed. She’d overheard whispers, vague plans among the smaller crews about a vulnerability in the Karras transport routes, a new shipment coming in. Not just narcotics, but something ‘special,’ something high value, easily convertible. She’d meticulously pieced together the fragments, the timings, the routes. If she could get him that score, the one big haul, enough to pay his debts, enough to get him a fresh start somewhere far away from here… maybe then he would see her. Maybe then he would be free. And maybe, just maybe, he would look at her the way she looked at him.*
Brida gasped, pulling herself back from the memory, her chest heaving. “I… I saw him drowning, Senna. Always in trouble, always just one bad deal away from being another body in the Calyx River. I heard about the Karras shipment, the easy marks on the route. I thought… I thought if he had enough money, a clean break, he could escape. I thought it would save him.” Her eyes pleaded with Senna. “I only wanted to save him.”
Senna felt a cold, hard knot form in her gut. All this, for Tomas. The cartels, Halm, the war, a dying child… all catalyzed by her friend’s desperate, misguided love. “Where is it, Brida?” Senna demanded, her voice tight with suppressed fury and a creeping sense of horror. “Where is that cooler?”
Brida swallowed, her voice barely audible. “I… I panicked. After the heist, with everyone looking for it, I couldn’t risk holding onto it. I knew it had to be somewhere safe, somewhere no one would ever look for stolen cartel goods.” She looked up, fresh tears streaming. “I hid it. Inside the Belzanto 9th Precinct’s evidence locker.”