Chapter 158 - The Fall from the Balcony
O’Hara roared in pain, his grip slipping as his arm instinctively jerked back. The revolver went off, the bullet shattering the terrace glass.
In that fraction of a second, Marcus moved faster than human thought. He threw himself across the wet terrace floor, his left arm reaching out over the stone ledge just as O’Hara lost his footing on the rain-slicked slate.
Chloe slipped from O’Hara’s grasp, falling into the void.
Marcus caught her by the hood of her raincoat, the heavy fabric groaning under the strain. The impact tore a guttural scream from his throat as his shoulder slammed violently against the stone balustrade.
"I've got you!" Marcus roared into the storm. "Chloe! Hold on to me!"
O’Hara lunged forward with his knife drawn, aiming for Marcus’s exposed neck.
I didn't think. I raised my weapon with both hands and pulled the trigger until the slide locked back empty.
The impacts drove Liam O’Hara backward. His heels caught the low lip of the terrace wall, his arms flailing against the wind, and with a muffled gasp, he tumbled over the edge into the black, rushing waters of the East River four stories below.
A heavy silence fell over the terrace, broken only by the roar of the river and Chloe’s frantic, gasping sobs.
I dropped my empty pistol, fell to my knees beside Marcus, and seized Chloe’s wrists, helping him haul her small, shivering body up over the stone railing.
Marcus collapsed against the wall, wrapping both arms around the little girl, pulling her tightly against his chest. Chloe buried her face in his soaked leather coat, her small hands clutching his lapels with terrifying strength.
"Daddy," she sobbed, her voice muffled against his wool. "Daddy, the bad man said you weren't my daddy."
Marcus closed his eyes, tears cutting through the grime and blood on his cheeks. He pressed his lips against her wet hair, his entire body trembling with an intensity that shook him to his core.
"He lied, baby," Marcus whispered, his voice cracking. "He lied. You're my girl. You will always be my girl."
I knelt beside them on the wet terrace floor, resting my trembling hand against Chloe’s back, feeling the rapid, fragile beat of her heart.
The sirens in the distance were growing louder now, converging on Sutton Place from both directions along the FDR. Blue and red lights began to reflect off the low storm clouds above the river.
"Marcus," I said softly, my voice tight. "The police. We have maybe three minutes before this house is swarming."
Marcus opened his eyes. The vulnerability of a father vanished, replaced instantly by the cold calculations of a man who knew the war was far from over.
"Eleanor," he said, rising to his feet and lifting Chloe into his arms. "She’s still at the Carlyle."
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
May you like
"I'm going to finish what Julian Mercer started thirty years ago," Marcus replied, his eyes burning with an unholy fire. "She gave us this city. Now we take her freedom."
***
