Chapter 2 - The Flight

The old marina was a decaying graveyard of rusted boats and rotting wooden docks, completely abandoned since the hurricane five years ago. A thick fog rolled off the black water, chilling me to the bone as I pulled up in my car.

I didn't come alone.

Sarah was in the passenger seat. I had tried to force her to stay behind, but she refused. "He's my dad too," she had said, loading a heavy hunting rifle she kept in her closet.

I stepped out of the car, clutching a briefcase that contained the ledgers and the confession. The damp wood of the pier groaned under my boots.

“Artie!” I shouted into the fog. “I’m here! Let him go!”

Headlights flared to life at the end of the pier, blinding me. Two massive men stepped out of a black SUV, followed by a third figure. Arthur Vance. He looked older now, his hair thinning and white, but his eyes were just as cold and dead as they were when I was a kid.

Two more men dragged my father out of the back seat. His face was bruised, his lip split and bleeding, but when he saw me, his eyes widened in terror.

“Ethan, run!” my dad screamed, before one of the men struck him across the face, dropping him to his knees.

“Shut up, old man,” Artie spat. He turned to me, a sickeningly warm smile on his face. “Ethan, my boy. Look how much you’ve grown. It breaks my heart it has to end like this. You just couldn’t leave the past buried, could you?”

“I have the papers,” I yelled, holding up the briefcase. “Let him go, and you can have them. We’ll leave the state. We’ll never say a word.”

Artie chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. “Oh, Ethan. You're smart, but you're naive. Your dad was useful. But the moment you opened that box, you all became liabilities. Bring me the case.”

I took a step forward. “No. Let him walk over here first.”

Artie sighed and pulled a silver revolver from his coat, pointing it directly at my father’s head. “I wasn’t negotiating, kid. Bring me the case, or I paint the dock with him.”