Chapter 6
PART 6
The old harbor south of Coronado looked abandoned from the road.
No tourists. No bright restaurants. No music. Just rusted gates, dead warehouses, and black water knocking softly against concrete pylons.
Dominic drove without headlights. Two of his loyal men followed in a separate car. Elena sat beside him, still in the blue gown from the gala, her hair loose, her knuckles bruised, Vivian’s silver locket clenched in her hand.
“If Rourke hurts her,” Dominic said quietly, “I will end him.”
“You won’t help Vivian from prison.”
He glanced at her.
“Still brave?”
“No,” Elena said. “Still terrified.”
“Good. Fear keeps people alive.”
“Love does too.”
He looked back at the road.
The warehouse lights were on.
They moved on foot through fog and salt wind. Elena heard voices before she saw them. Men near the pier. A black medical van. Victor Rourke standing in a long coat, calm as if supervising a business deal.
Vivian stood near the edge of the pier, barely conscious, held upright by two men.
Elena’s heart nearly stopped.
“She’s drugged,” she whispered.
Dominic signaled his men to spread out.
Then everything went wrong.
One of Rourke’s guards spotted movement and shouted. Dominic’s men rushed forward. The pier exploded into chaos—men fighting, orders shouted, shoes scraping on wet concrete.
Rourke seized Vivian and dragged her backward toward the water.
“Stop!” Dominic roared.
Rourke smiled. “You should have let the court handle this.”
Vivian’s eyes rolled unfocused. Her feet slipped.
Elena stepped forward slowly, hands raised.
“Victor,” she said, voice shaking but clear. “It’s over. Dr. Vale confessed.”
For the first time, Rourke’s smile faltered.
Then another car screeched into the lot.
Dr. Vale stumbled out, crying.
“I called the police,” she shouted. “I told them everything.”
Rourke’s face twisted.
“You stupid woman.”
Elena turned toward the doctor.
“Margaret,” she called. “Look at Vivian. Look at what he made you do.”
Dr. Vale broke completely.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Rourke panicked. He jerked Vivian closer, but the pier was wet. Her heel slid. For one suspended second, her body tilted backward over the black water.
Then she fell.
The splash cracked through the night.
Elena did not think.
She ran.
Dominic shouted her name, but she was already over the edge.
The water was colder than memory.
It stole her breath, stabbed her skin, dragged at the heavy gown around her legs. Elena kicked, fought, searched blindly until her hand struck Vivian’s hair.
She grabbed her.
Vivian was limp.
No.
Elena wrapped an arm around her chest and kicked upward with everything she had. Her lungs burned. Her body screamed. The surface seemed impossibly far.
Then air.
Elena burst up gasping, dragging Vivian with her.
“Hold on,” she choked. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Hands reached down.
Dominic hauled Vivian up first, then Elena. He pulled them both onto the pier and wrapped his coat around them with shaking hands.
“Breathe,” he begged his sister.
Vivian coughed.
Dominic made a sound Elena had never heard from him before—a broken, helpless sound.
Police flooded the pier. Rourke was handcuffed. His men dropped to their knees. Dr. Vale stood crying as officers took her statement.
Dominic held Vivian against him, one arm around Elena too, as if he could physically keep both of them from ever sinking again.
Vivian opened her eyes.
“Elena,” she whispered.
“I’m here.”
“You came back.”
Elena laughed through tears. “I’m getting tired of diving for you.”
Vivian smiled weakly.
Dominic looked at Elena with wet eyes and a face stripped of every mask he had ever worn.
“You saved her twice,” he said.
May you like
Elena leaned against him, shaking from cold.
“No,” she whispered. “This time we all did.”
