Chapter 8 - The AftermathSilence rushed back into Warehouse B, broken only by the crackle of a small electrical fire near the ruined loading bay and the heavy, ragged breathing of the men standing below.
Leo’s voice crackled over the tactical radio: “Area secure, boss. The rest of Marcone’s crew are surrendering or running for the river.”
Viktor stood on the catwalk, staring down at the empty space where Marcone had fallen. Slowly, he exhaled a long, steady breath, the tension in his massive shoulders finally releasing. He turned around to face Nora.
She was standing calmly by the metal railing, picking up her dropped pistol and sliding it back into her thigh holster with smooth, professional grace.
Viktor walked over to her, his dark eyes searching her face with an intensity that felt heavier than any weapon. He reached out, his large, calloused fingers gently touching her cheek, tracing the small smudge of soot there.
"You didn't run," Viktor said softly.
"I told you," Nora replied, meeting his gaze without a single trace of hesitation. "I'm not running anymore."
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Viktor let out a low, dark chuckle that turned into a genuine, rolling laugh—the sound of a man who had finally found his equal in a world full of shadows. He pulled her flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around her with a fierce, possessive warmth that drove away the last lingering chill of the Hudson River.
"Come on," Viktor murmured against her hair. "Let's go home."
