“You can't hide in here forever, Julian!” Marcus’s voice was strained, bordering on hysterical. “Just give me the book and walk away. I’ll tell Arthur you drowned. You can leave Cromer and never look back.”
Julian didn't answer. He was busy at the back of the arcade, near a row of vintage strength-tester machines. He found what he was looking for—a heavy iron mallet used for the 'High Striker' game. He gripped the handle, feeling the familiar weight. It wasn't a gun, but in close quarters, it was enough.
He saw Marcus’s silhouette through the frosted glass of the arcade entrance. The official was moving slowly, cautiously. He wasn't a soldier; he was a bureaucrat with a weapon he didn't fully understand. That was Julian’s only advantage.
As Marcus stepped into the arcade, Julian threw a heavy glass jar of prize tickets across the room. It shattered against a change machine, the noise echoing like a gunshot. Marcus spun around, firing blindly into the shadows. The bullet hit a neon sign, sending a shower of sparks over the floor.
Julian moved then, fast and silent. He came up behind Marcus, swinging the mallet with every ounce of strength he had left. The blow caught Marcus in the shoulder, sending the rifle spinning across the floor. Marcus screamed, falling to his knees.
Julian stepped over him, picking up the rifle. He looked down at the man who had helped run the town into the ground. “Where’s Leo?”
Marcus looked up, his face twisted in pain and fear. “He’s on the boat. Arthur’s taking him out to the trench. He’s going to make him dive for the vault. He thinks the boy knows how to open it.”
“In this storm?” Julian asked, horrified. “He’ll kill him.”
“Arthur doesn't care about the boy. He only cares about what’s inside,” Marcus wheezed. “Please, Julian. Let me go. I have a family.”
“So did Thomas,” Julian said, his voice cold.
He turned to leave, but a sudden movement caught his eye. A second figure was standing at the far end of the arcade. It was the sergeant Julian had seen at the station, the one who had told Elena to go home and grieve. He held a pistol, his aim steady.
“Put the rifle down, Julian,” the sergeant said. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Thomas Vane.”
Julian froze. The betrayal was complete. The law in Cromer wasn't just blind; it was an accomplice. “You know that’s a lie. I have the ledger. Your name is in it, isn't it?”
The sergeant didn't answer. He pulled the trigger. Julian dived behind a row of arcade cabinets, the bullet tearing through the plastic casing of a dancing game. He scrambled toward the back exit, the sound of the sergeant’s footsteps drawing closer.
He burst out onto the rear deck of the pier, the wind nearly knocking him off his feet. He looked back and saw the sergeant emerging from the arcade. The man stopped, his eyes wide as he looked past Julian toward the sea.
A massive wave, larger than any that had come before, rose up from the darkness. It towered over the end of the pier, a wall of black water topped with white foam. It slammed into the structure with the force of a freight train. The pier shuddered, the metal screaming as it twisted.
Julian grabbed a railing, holding on for dear life. When the water receded, the sergeant was gone. The end of the pier where he had been standing was simply... gone. A jagged edge of twisted iron was all that remained. Julian looked out at the churning water, but there was no sign of the man. The sea had claimed its own.
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