Chapter 7 - The Reckoning
Time seemed to slow down as Viktor charged across the grease-slicked concrete, his face twisted into an ugly snarl of desperation and violence.
Arthur didn't flinch. Decades of swinging framing hammers and dodging falling lumber had taught him how to read momentum and balance. As Viktor swung the heavy spanner in a wide, sweeping arc aimed at Arthur’s skull, Arthur simply ducked inside the reach, letting the momentum carry the younger man off balance.
With a grunt of pure physical effort, Arthur drove his shoulder straight into Viktor’s midsection, lifting the heavy-set loan shark off his feet and slamming him backward onto the metal workbench. Cash trays, ledgers, and glass bottles exploded into the air, raining down in a chaotic storm of paper and shards.
Viktor gasped for air, his eyes bulging as the wind was knocked violently from his lungs. Before he could recover, Arthur pinned him by the collar with one massive hand, his knuckles white with tension.
"That was for my grandson," Arthur whispered, his voice dangerously low, right beside Viktor's ear.
Before Viktor could swing back, a pair of heavy tactical cuffs snapped around his wrists with a sharp clack. Detective Miller stepped out from behind a hydraulic lift, lowering his service weapon and looking down at the subdued loan shark with professional satisfaction.
"Good catch, Arthur," Miller said, nodding to the two SWAT officers who immediately hoisted Viktor to his feet and hauled him toward the exit. "Looks like you’ve still got some fight left in you."
Arthur straightened his jacket, wiping a smear of motor oil from his sleeve. His breathing was heavy, but his hands were steady for the first time all day. "I'm too old for this nonsense, Detective. I just want to go home to my wife."
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"You can go home," Miller said, handing Arthur his wet cap back. "The whole operation—extortion, child endangerment, drug distribution—is blown wide open. Marcus is facing twenty years minimum, and Viktor’s syndicate won't be seeing daylight anytime soon. Chloe’s rehabilitation counselor has already been briefed; she's safe, and she’ll be able to come home to a clean slate when she finishes her program."
Arthur took his cap, pulled it tightly over his brow, and turned toward the exit where the flashing red and blue lights of half a dozen patrol cars cut through the rainy night.
