Chapter 6 - The Hunt on the Cliff
The rain had begun to fall in earnest—a cold, driving Atlantic downpour that turned the manicured lawns of the Cross estate into slick beds of mud.
Marcus sprinted down the winding stone pathway leading toward the edge of the granite cliffs, where a hidden concrete staircase led down to a private boat launch. The heavy briefcase banged against his leg as he ran, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps.
He knew he couldn't stay in Boston. The moment Damien Cross cleared that library, every contact, hitman, and corrupt cop on the Eastern Seaboard would be hunting him down. His only chance was the high-speed cigarette boat docked at the base of the cliff, which could carry him across the bay to a waiting light aircraft in Maine.
He reached the edge of the cliff, where an eight-foot iron gate guarded the top of the concrete stairs. He fumbled with the keycard in his pocket, his hands slippery with rain and sweat.
Behind him, a sound rose above the roaring wind and the crash of the waves below.
It wasn't a bark. It wasn't a growl. It was the heavy, terrifying sound of four massive paws tearing through the wet turf at forty miles an hour.
Marcus whipped around, pulling his tactical pistol from his shoulder holster.
Out of the black fog and driving rain, Titan materialized like a mythical beast forged from slate and iron. His dark eyes were fixed on Marcus’s chest, his jaw unhinged, his body completely horizontal as he leaped across the final ten feet of lawn.
TRIPLE SHOT.
Marcus fired wildly into the dark. One bullet grazed Titan’s heavy shoulder, tearing a streak of red through his slate coat, but the dog didn't even flinch.
The massive animal collided with Marcus with the force of a speeding vehicle.
Marcus hit the slippery stone patio hard, the pistol flying from his grip and clattering over the edge of the cliff into the black water eighty feet below. The heavy iron briefcase tumbled into the mud.
Titan was on top of him immediately. His massive front paws pinned Marcus’s shoulders to the wet stone, his huge jaws clamping down on Marcus’s right forearm with bone-crushing pressure.
"AAGGHH!" Marcus screamed, his face contorting in agony as he felt his radius snap beneath the mastiff’s bite force. He tried to reach for his boot knife with his left hand, but Titan shifted his weight, pressing his massive knee against Marcus’s chest until the air burst from his lungs in a red spray.
Titan didn't tear at his throat. He didn't kill him.
He simply held him. Exactly as he had been trained in the Aegis program: Apprehend and Neutralize.
"Get off me! You damn beast!" Marcus gasped, his eyes wide with terror as he looked into the cold, unblinking eyes of the massive dog staring down at him through the pouring rain.
Footsteps thundered down the stone path.
Damien arrived first, his coat soaked through, his face pale with a mix of fury and profound sorrow. In his hand was his Colt .45. Behind him came Clara, holding Lily’s hand tightly as they navigated the slippery path through the trees.
Damien stepped up to the edge of the patio. He looked down at Marcus, who lay groaning in the mud beneath Titan’s paws.
Titan looked up at Damien, his heavy tail giving a single, subtle sweep against the wet stone, acknowledging his master’s presence, but keeping his jaws locked firmly around Marcus’s broken arm.
Lily pulled her hand away from Clara and ran forward.
"Lily, wait!" Clara called out.
Lily didn't stop. She ran straight to Titan, kneeling down in the pouring rain beside the giant dog. She didn't look at Marcus. She looked at Titan’s bleeding shoulder where the bullet had grazed him.
Her small hands came up, trembling in the cold rain. She wiped the blood away with her sleeve, then wove her fingers through the dark air:
Good dog. My hero. Stay.
Titan lowered his head slightly, letting out a soft, low huff against Lily’s wet knee, his grip on Marcus remaining as solid as an iron vice.
Damien stood over his former friend. He raised the barrel of his gun, pointing it directly between Marcus’s eyes.
"Give me one reason," Damien said, his voice flat, devoid of any human warmth. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't end this right here on the rocks."
Marcus looked up through the rain, his teeth stained red. "Do it," he rasped. "Do it, Damien. But it won't change anything. The Valentis already have the coordinates. They know the dog is here. They're coming with everything they have."
Damien stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. His finger tightened on the trigger.
Lily looked up from Titan’s shoulder. She saw her father’s face—the dark, terrifying expression she had seen a few times before, the look that meant someone was about to disappear forever.
She stood up, stepping between the barrel of the gun and Marcus.
She reached out and placed her small, warm palm over the cold steel frame of her father’s pistol.
Damien looked down into his daughter’s eyes.
Lily didn't sign words. She simply shook her head slowly, her dark eyes filled with a desperate, quiet plea. She didn't want any more death. She didn't want the world that had stolen her mother and her hearing to take her father’s soul as well.
Damien’s hand trembled. The man who had never hesitated, who had built an empire on blood and iron, felt the ice around his heart crack wide open.
Slowly, deliberately, Damien lowered the gun.
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"Marcus," Damien said, looking down at the man in the mud. "You aren't going to die tonight. You're going to live long enough to tell the federal prosecutors everything you know about the Valenti family."
Damien looked at Clara. "Call the federal district attorney. Tell him Damien Cross has a gift for him."
