Chapter 28 - The Wolves at the Gate
The harbor was shrouded in the deep, suffocating darkness that precedes the dawn. The blizzard had tapered off, leaving three feet of pristine snow blanketing the fishing village. But that peace was shattered by the low rumble of heavy diesel engines echoing through the narrow streets.
In the basement of the cannery, Alexander tightened the strap of a Kevlar vest over his injured chest, grimacing as the Kevlar pressed against his cracked ribs. Gabriel was methodically laying out weapons on the table: three tactical shotguns, semi-automatic sidearms, and boxes of heavy-duty buckshot.
"The bridge is blocked," Gabriel said, chambering a round into his shotgun with a sharp *clack*. "The airstrip is forty miles north behind their checkpoint. The only way out of this harbor with Elena and Leo is by sea."
"In this weather?" Elena asked, adjusting Leo’s heavy woolen coat. The boy was awake now, silent and wide-eyed, sensing the danger but clinging bravely to his mother’s hand. "The bay is full of drift ice. No ferry will sail until afternoon."
"A commercial ferry won't," Alexander said, turning toward the heavy timber door that led out to the cannery’s private loading slip. "What about *The Iron Gull*?"
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "*The Iron Gull* is a sixty-foot steel-hulled trawler built in the seventies. Her engines are ironclad, but she’s loud, slow, and burns fuel like a furnace."
"She’s also built like a tank and can plow through six inches of surface ice without denting," Alexander countered. "If we put Elena and Leo aboard, can your crew navigate her past the shoals and reach international waters before sunrise?"
"My crew can sail through the gates of hell if I ask them to," Gabriel answered. "The problem isn't the boat, Alexander. The problem is getting the slip open. The harbor gate winch is controlled from the harbor master’s tower at the end of the commercial pier. Julianna’s mercenaries have already stationed an overwatch team on the roof."
Suddenly, the night erupted with the sharp, rhythmic crackle of gunfire from the town square.
Through the high basement grating, Alexander saw the orange glow of flames reflecting off the snow. The old maritime library on Main Street was burning.
"They're drawing out the local sheriff," Gabriel growled, his jaw clenching. "Terrorizing the civilians to keep anyone from watching the docks."
"I'll take the harbor master's tower," Alexander said without hesitation, picking up a tactical sidearm and two extra magazines from the table.
Elena grabbed his sleeve, her eyes wide with terror. "Alexander, no! You're injured! You can't fight an entire squad of armed men alone!"
Alexander stopped. He looked down at Elena, then knelt down in front of little Leo.
The boy looked at him, his large, intelligent eyes searching Alexander’s face. He reached out with a small mitten and touched the silver watch on Alexander’s wrist—the one with the Vance family crest engraved on the casing.
"Are you my dad?" the boy asked softly in the dim light of the lantern.
The question hit Alexander with the force of a tidal wave. Tears stung his eyes, but he held them back, placing his hand over the boy’s small shoulder.
"I am, Leo," Alexander whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m your father. And I promise you, on my life, nobody is ever going to hurt you or your mother again."
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Alexander stood up, looked at Elena, and leaned down, pressing his lips gently against her forehead. "Get on that boat with Gabriel. When you see the green beacon light up on the harbor tower, hit the throttle and don't look back."
***
