Chapter 17 Toppling the Scar
Nick Malone
The storm was coming.
Nick felt it in his bones. In the sharp, electric burn of his pulse. In his gun strapped to his side. In the raw, animal instinct clawing at the back of his mind.
Celeste was out there. Alone. Trapped.
And he was going to burn the world down to get her back.
The yacht was a moving fortress. Satellite intel had pinned it roughly twenty miles offshore, drifting toward international waters. That meant time was running out.
“Give me something, Graham,” Nick growled into the earpiece, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. The black SUV ate up the coastline road as he raced toward the private dock where his backup was waiting.
Graham’s voice came in sharp. “It’s bad, Malone. The Eclipse has a full security detail. Ex-military. Automatic weapons. That thing’s a floating bunker.”
Nick exhaled through his nose, his mind already shifting to worst-case scenarios. “Weak spots? I need weak spots. Find me the goddamn weak spots, Graham!”
“A handful,” Graham admitted, his fingers flying over the keyboard as another satellite image refreshed. “Best shot? They’ll have to slow down if they’re refueling soon. That’s your in. You’ll need to get close before they hit open waters.”
Graham paused, scanning the data, then exhaled sharply.
“There’s more. The yacht’s registered under an alias, but it was last overhauled six months ago—meaning the security systems could still have vulnerabilities if they haven’t upgraded their protocols.
Their onboard surveillance might have blind spots. ”
Nick’s jaw flexed. “Where?”
Graham tapped the screen. “Thermal scans show weaker coverage near the stern, likely where the crew quarters are. If you board from there, you might be able to slip in undetected—assuming they haven’t added guards.”
Nick filed that away. “Anything else?”
Graham hesitated, then cursed under his breath. “Yeah. The yacht’s emergency satellite link is still running on a backup frequency. If someone on board makes an outgoing transmission and I can pinpoint the coordinates, you’ll have a real-time location, even if they change course.”
Nick’s pulse ticked up. Celeste. If she was smart—and he knew she was—she’d try to get a message out.
Graham met his eyes through the screen. “But Nick… you don’t have long. Once they hit deeper waters, you’re out of options.”
Nick tightened his grip on the phone. “Then I better move now.”
Nick glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes. That was all the time he had before the Eclipse vanished beyond legal jurisdiction.
Celeste’s voice echoed in his head. Nick will find me.
Damn right he will.
***
By the time Nick reached the private dock, the strike team was already in place. Three boats. Silent. Fast. Deadly.
Graham was standing near the largest vessel, his expression grim. “Malone, you sure about this? If you go in guns blazing—”
Nick cut him off. “I’m not leaving without her.”
Graham sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Then we do this fast. No mistakes.”
Nick didn’t respond. There would be no mistakes. Not this time.
He secured his vest, checked his weapon, and boarded the lead boat. The moment the engine thrummed to life beneath him, everything else fell away.
He was no longer a cop. No longer a man bound by rules and protocol.
He was a predator.
And he was coming for what was his.
***
Celeste had managed to break the security camera in her room, but it hadn’t been enough.
Within minutes, the door slammed open with the force of a gunshot, rattling the walls as two guards stormed inside. Before she could move, rough hands seized her, yanking her off the bed. A sharp twist of her arm had her gasping, her cheek slamming against the cool mahogany paneling.
“Get off me!” she snarled, thrashing against their grip.
A brutal shove pinned her in place. The sickening scent of cheap cologne and sweat filled her nostrils as one of them trapping too close, his fingers digging painfully into her ribs.
Then—footsteps. Slow, measured, deliberate.
Juliette.
She sauntered in like she owned the world, her silk dress barely rustling as she came to a stop just inside the room. Amusement twinkled in her eyes as she took in the scene—Celeste, restrained, breathing hard, defiance burning in her gaze.
Juliette sighed, shaking her head as if she were staring at a disobedient child. “I thought you’d be smarter than that, dear sister.”
Celeste’s lip curled. “Go to hell, Juliette.”
Juliette hummed, gliding toward her. “Now, now. Is that any way to greet family?”
Celeste jerked against the guard’s hold, her nails clawing at his wrist, but his grip only tightened. Like a vice.
The two guards turned Celeste around at Juliette’s command. Now she was facing her sister eye to eye.
Juliette’s smile widened. “Always so dramatic.” She traced her manicured nails along the edge of the broken security camera, inspecting the shattered lens like it was a piece of abstract art. “Did you think that little tantrum would do anything other than piss me off?”
Celeste bared her teeth. “No, but it sure as hell felt good.”
Juliette’s expression darkened, and before Celeste could react, a sharp crack split the air. The slap sent her head snapping to the side, her cheek burning.
The room stilled.
A slow, dangerous smirk spread across Celeste’s lips as she turned back to face her sister. “That all you got?”
Juliette’s nostrils flared, but she reeled herself back in just as quickly, schooling her features into something cold, untouchable. “You always did make things difficult,” she murmured, brushing imaginary dust from her dress. “But no matter. It’s almost over now.”
Celeste stilled, her heart slamming into her ribs. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Juliette leaned in close, her breath warm against Celeste’s ear as she whispered, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
Celeste struggled against the guards, but their grips were ironclad.
Then the door opened again.
And Carmine Caruso walked in.
Celeste stiffened. Something was wrong.
Juliette arched a brow at him. “Tell me you have the arrangements set.”
Carmine exhaled, his gaze turned to Celeste for a brief second before locking onto Juliette. His fingers twitched at his sides. Nervous.
That’s when Celeste knew.
Carmine wasn’t following orders anymore.
Carmine took a measured step forward, rolling his shoulders like he was settling into something inevitable. “You know, Juliette,” he murmured, voice smooth as aged whiskey, “I’ve been thinking about our arrangement.”
Juliette’s eyes snapped to him, her patience razor-thin. “Now is not the time for this.”
Carmine smirked, tilting his head as if he were amused by the warning. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. It’s the perfect time?”
Juliette’s fingers curled at her sides, her expression darkening. “You owe me, Carmine.”
“Owe you?” He let out a slow, condescending chuckle, dragging a hand down his jaw as if he was weighing the words. “That’s funny. Because last I checked, I’ve done a hell of a lot more for you than you’ve ever done for me.”
Juliette arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “I saved your life.”
“No, sweetheart.” Carmine’s smirk widened, but there was steel beneath it now.
“You just delayed my death. And in return, I’ve been your personal attack dog—cleaning up your messes, making people disappear, keeping my damn mouth shut.
” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “But you? You never planned to let me go, did you?”
Juliette’s lips curled into something venomous. “Of course not.”
Carmine’s amusement turned cold. “And that’s the problem.”
Juliette sighed, brushing nonexistent dust off her dress like she was already bored of this conversation.
“You knew the deal. You stay useful, you stay breathing.” She lifted her chin.
“You’re not the only one who can pull strings, Carmine.
If you think you can slither your way out of this, you’re dead wrong. ”
Carmine chuckled, low and lethal. “That’s cute. You still think you’re holding all the cards.”
Carmine’s smirk vanished. “While you and your two thugs here were flexing muscles, I gained access to the communication equipment. I sent out an S.O.S. signal, any minute now this floating jailhouse should be surrounded by the authorities.”
And then—he moved.
Faster than Juliette had time to react, he lunged.
His hand shot out, locking around Celeste’s arm, yanking her into his chest. His other hand went straight to the gun at his hip, pressing the barrel flush against her temple.
Juliette’s entire body went rigid.
The guards tensed, hands twitching toward their weapons, but Carmine was already shifting, dragging Celeste backward, putting her between him and them like a human shield.
Faster than Celeste expected for a man his size, Carmine shifted his gun, shot one of Juliette’s guards point-blank, and grabbed Celeste tighter.
The room exploded into chaos.
Juliette’s eyes flared with pure fury. “What the HELL do you think you’re doing?”
Carmine tightened his hold on Celeste, his gun now pressed to her temple. “Making sure I don’t go back to prison.”
Celeste’s breath came fast, pulse hammering. She could feel the heat of the gun against her skin, could smell the sharp tang of sweat and gun oil on Carmine.
Juliette’s nostrils flared. “You’re making a mistake.”
Carmine’s grip tightened on Celeste. “No, sweetheart. You made the mistake. You thought I was your pet. Turns out, I bite.”
Juliette’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “If you think this changes anything—”
“Oh, it changes everything.” Carmine’s smile was cruel. “Because now, I’m taking my insurance policy with me.” He jerked Celeste closer. “I’m not going to hurt you, just follow my lead.”
Juliette’s eyes burned with unfiltered rage.
“You won’t make it off this yacht alive,” she hissed.
Carmine’s smirk deepened. “Then I better get moving, shouldn’t I?”
And just like that—he started backing toward the exit, dragging Celeste with him as a shield.
Juliette’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t give the order to fire. Not yet.
Celeste’s pulse pounded. This wasn’t just a power play. This was survival.
Carmine was turning on Juliette. He was done being a pawn.
Celeste barely had time to process that thought before the entire yacht lurched violently to the side.
A deafening BOOM rocked through the ship.
Her stomach dropped.
Nick.
***
Nick moved like a ghost through the lower decks of the Eclipse. Silent. Lethal. His team had taken out the outer guards in under three minutes.
Now, he had one goal.
Find Celeste. Kill anyone in the way.
Another explosion shook the yacht—a warning shot from his team.
Nick reached the main corridor and—gunfire erupted.
Juliette.
She was standing at the far end of the hall, a small pistol in her manicured grip, eyes blazing with hatred.
She raised the gun at him. “You really should’ve stayed out of this, Malone.”
Nick didn’t hesitate. He fired.
Juliette barely dodged before disappearing into another room.
Nick moved to follow—but then he heard it.
Celeste’s voice. Panicked. Strained.
His blood turned to ice.
He spun.
And there she was.
At the other end of the corridor—in Carmine’s grip.
His gun was to her head.
Nick’s stomach twisted.
No.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Carmine locked eyes with him, his expression grim. “Drop the gun, Malone. Or she dies.”
Celeste screamed. “No, don’t shoot!”
Nick’s grip on his weapon was ironclad.
Juliette was escaping.
Celeste was about to be taken.
One second. That’s all he had.
Revenge or love?
He made his choice.
Nick dropped his gun—but only for a second.
In the same motion, he yanked a hidden knife from his vest and launched it.
The blade buried itself in Carmine’s shoulder.
Carmine let out a choked grunt, his grip on Celeste loosening just enough—
She moved.
With every ounce of strength she had left, Celeste twisted out of his grasp.
Carmine staggered. Nick was already moving.
One punch. Two. Brutal, unforgiving.
Nick slammed Carmine to the floor, his knee pressing hard against his spine.
Celeste gasped, catching her breath.
Nick locked eyes with her.
She was free. Alive.
For a moment, nothing else existed.
Then—
A gunshot rang out.
Nick turned—just in time to see Juliette standing in the doorway.
Her pistol was aimed right at Celeste.
Nick lunged.
And then—a second shot rang out.