Chapter 9 - The Harbor at Dawn
The cold Chicago wind whipped off the river, carrying the smell of brine and engine exhaust as Dorian hit the metal stairs of the gantry three at a time.
I didn't wait for him to reach the top. I threw down the pistol, ran down the metal walkway toward the stairwell, and collided straight into his chest.
Dorian caught me with a fierce, crushing grip, his arms wrapping around me so tightly I could barely draw breath, burying his face in my neck as if he needed to physically anchor me to reality to prove I was real.
“Alina… God, Alina,” he choked out, his voice cracking against my shoulder, rough and raw with tears he had spent six months holding back. “I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry.”
“You idiot,” I sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my face into his blood-smudged shirt while hot tears spilled freely down my cheeks. “You stupid, arrogant, brave idiot. You let me think you hated me.”
“I never hated you,” Dorian whispered fiercely, pulling back just enough to frame my face with his large, trembling hands, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears. “Loving you was the only reason I survived the last six months. Every single day, keeping my distance from you was torture. But looking at you right now... knowing you're safe... knowing we are safe...”
His gaze dropped slowly, almost reverently, to my lower stomach. His hand left my face, sliding down to rest gently, protectively, against my abdomen.
“Is it true?” he whispered, his voice trembling so much I could barely hear it over the wind. “Marcus said... Dr. Mercer’s office called before the power went out. Is there really a...”
I covered his hand with mine, nodding as a watery smile broke through my tears.
“You’re going to be a father, Dorian,” I whispered.
For the third time in my life, I saw Dorian Cross cry. A single tear broke free from the corner of his eye, cutting a clean path through the soot and sweat on his cheek. He pulled me back into his arms, pressing his lips to my forehead in a long, desperate, eternal kiss.
Behind us, Marcus cleared his throat awkwardly, standing guard near the top of the stairs while keeping an eye on the subdued syndicate enforcers scattered across the bay below.
“Boss,” Marcus called out quietly. “We’ve got bigger problems than Moretti right now. Sirens are closing in from Lake Shore Drive. Federal and local task force units. We need to move before the whole block is locked down.”
Dorian pulled back, though his arm remained firmly wrapped around my waist, supporting my trembling legs. He looked at Marcus, then down at me.
“Let them come,” Dorian said, a hard, defiant edge returning to his voice, though his eyes remained warm as he looked at me. “For the last six months, I played their game by their rules. That ends today. Every single asset, every shell company, every piece of evidence we collected on the Moretti syndicate goes straight to the U.S. Attorney’s office before sunrise. We're wiping the slate clean.”
“And us?” I asked softly, resting my head against his shoulder as the first pale slivers of dawn began to bleed through the gray fog over Lake Michigan. “Where do we go from here?”
Dorian looked down at me, a genuine, unburdened smile touching his lips—the first real smile I had seen on his face in half a year.
May you like
“Home, Alina,” he said, pressing another kiss to the top of my head. “Just home.”
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