Chapter 10: Blood on the Asphalt

The industrial landscape of the South Port was a jarring, ugly contrast to the polished marble of the downtown luxury district. Rusted shipping containers towered into the gray sky like a metallic graveyard.

The heavy rain pounded relentlessly against the corrugated steel roofs of the massive warehouses, creating a deafening, chaotic drumming sound.

Thomas slammed on the brakes, sliding the heavy sedan to a harsh stop directly in front of Warehouse 42. Before the car even fully settled, Dominic kicked his door open and stepped out into the freezing downpour.

He didn’t look back. He drew his weapon and vanished silently into the dark, gaping entrance of the warehouse.

Click.

Thomas hit the master lock from the driver’s seat. The heavy internal deadbolts of the armored car slid into place, effectively trapping Khloe inside the luxurious, air-conditioned cabin.

“Thomas, unlock the doors,” Khloe demanded immediately, leaning forward to grip the partition grille.

“Mr. Kwon gave me strict, explicit orders, ma’am,” Thomas replied softly, not making eye contact in the rearview mirror. “You are to remain entirely secure within the vehicle.”

“They know who I am, Thomas,” she argued, panic and fury fighting for dominance in her chest. “They tracked me. They used me to bait him here.”

“Which is exactly why you need to stay behind ballistic glass,” the driver stated reasonably.

“He’s walking into a trap,” Khloe insisted, her voice breaking. “If they knew he would drop everything for an emerald purse, they know exactly how to trigger his temper. They want him completely blinded by rage.”

Thomas didn’t answer. He just stared stoically out the windshield, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

Suddenly, a loud, echoing crack completely shattered the rhythmic sound of the rain. A gunshot.

Khloe flinched violently, covering her ears.

Then came another. And another. Three sharp, distinct shots echoing from the belly of the dark warehouse.

“Thomas!” Khloe screamed, violently rattling the partition. “Open the damn doors right now!”

“I cannot do that, Mrs. Kwon,” Thomas said, though his voice wavered for the very first time. He reached under his seat and pulled out his own sidearm, resting it cautiously on his thigh.

“If you don’t unlock this door in three seconds,” Khloe threatened, her eyes completely wild, “I will climb into the front seat and kick the windshield out myself. I am not sitting here while my husband gets murdered over my bad day at the mall.”

Thomas looked at her directly in the mirror. He saw the exact same terrifying, unyielding stubbornness that he dealt with every single day from his boss.

He let out a long, heavy sigh that sounded like a surrender.

Click.

The locks disengaged. Before Thomas could even verbally protest, Khloe kicked the heavy door open and threw herself out into the torrential rain.

The freezing water soaked completely through her black turtleneck dress in a matter of seconds. The heavy leather of her boots splashed violently in the deep, oily puddles as she sprinted toward the gaping mouth of the warehouse.

She had no weapon, no plan, and no physical training. She only had the terrifying, absolute certainty that her husband was about to make a catastrophic mistake because of her.

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