Chapter 11 - Reckoning at the Docks
The heavy silence that followed Gunther’s voice was broken only by the rhythmic dripping of water from a rusted pipe overhead. From the upper catwalk, two heavily armed men stepped into the dim pool of light, their assault rifles raised. Between them stood Mrs. Gable, her face stained with tears, trembling violently as she stared down the barrel of Gunther’s gun.
“Gunther!” Mrs. Gable screamed, her voice cracking. “I had no choice! They took my son—they said if I didn't open the door, they’d—”
“Shut your mouth, old woman,” snarled a scarred man standing behind her, pressing the muzzle of his pistol against the back of her neck. He looked down at Gunther with a cruel, mocking grin. “Well, well. The great Woods came alone. You really are losing your edge over a cleaning girl.”
“I didn't come alone,” Gunther replied, his voice as cold as the river outside.
From the opposite end of the catwalk, Victor stepped out of the shadows, his own weapon leveled squarely at the second gunman’s chest. “Drop the rifles, boys. Unless you want your brains painted across the corrugated steel.”
The scarred man hesitated, his eyes darting between Gunther and Victor. He realized in a fraction of a second that they were completely outmaneuvered. With a curse, he shoved Mrs. Gable forward and dropped his weapon, raising his hands slowly into the air. The second gunman followed suit, letting his rifle clatter noisily against the metal grating.
Victor closed in fast, snapping heavy zip-ties around both men's wrists and kicking their weapons down to the concrete floor below.
Mrs. Gable collapsed to her knees, sobbing hysterically as she clutched her head. “Kill me, Gunther. Please, just kill me. I ruined everything.”
Gunther walked slowly up the metal stairs, his boots ringing out like a death knell. He stopped in front of the sobbing housekeeper, looking down at her with a gaze devoid of pity, but also free of rage.
“You broke the most fundamental rule of survival in this house, Elena,” Gunther said quietly. “You traded loyalty for fear. And in our world, fear is a currency that always bankrupts you.”
“My son...” she choked out.
“Your son was picked up by my security team ten minutes ago from a safehouse in the suburbs,” Gunther interrupted flatly. “He’s safe. He’s already on a flight to a medical facility in Zurich, funded by my accounts. He will never have to worry about a debt again.”
Mrs. Gable stared up at him, her tear-filled eyes wide with sheer disbelief. “You... you saved him? Even after what I did?”
“I’m not a monster, Elena,” Gunther said, turning away from her and looking at the two captured assassins. “Victor, put her on the same plane. Strip her of her accounts, change her identity, and make sure she never sets foot in this country again. If she ever comes back, she answers to me.”
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“Understood, boss,” Victor replied, hauling the sobbing woman to her feet.
Gunther turned his back on the catwalk, walking slowly back down into the shadows of the warehouse, his mind already drifting back to the sprawling estate in the hills and the tired maid waiting inside his fortress.
