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Just as he was about to apprehend him, Emmet looked up, his eyes wide with panic. He bolted, dropping the bag and sprinting down the dock. Carver cursed under his breath and gave chase.
Emmet was fast, but Carver was faster. He closed the distance between them, his breath coming in sharp bursts. Emmet reached the edge of the dock and skidded to a halt, looking around frantically. Carver lunged, tackling him to the ground. They rolled across the wooden planks, each fighting for the upper hand. Emmet struggled beneath him, but Carver’s grip was like iron.
“It’s over, Emmet,” he snarled. “You can’t run from me.”
Emmet’s eyes were wild with fear. “Please, Carver! I didn’t mean to cross you! I was just trying to survive!” Emmet blurted.
Carver’s anger flared, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Where’s the stash? The coke you stole from us?” he demanded.
Emmet hesitated, his breath ragged. “It’s … it’s in a locker at the train station. Locker 23. I swear, that’s all I took!” Emmet blurted
Carver stared into Emmet’s eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, he nodded and hauled Emmet to his feet.
“You’re coming with me. And if you’re lying, you’ll regret it,” Carver warned.
As he marched Emmet back toward his car, Carver couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. This hunt was far from over, and he had a sinking suspicion Emmet had more up his sleeve.
Carver kept a firm grip on Emmet’s arm as they headed to the train station. The bustling crowd provided the perfect cover for Emmet’s jittery behavior, but Carver kept his eyes on him.
They wove through the throngs of travelers, the noise of announcements and chatter creating a cacophony that added to Carver’s tension. Emmet’s nervousness was palpable. His eyes darted around, and he licked his lips repeatedly. Carver tightened his hold, his patience wearing thin.
“Keep moving,” he growled, pushing Emmet forward.
They finally reached the row of lockers. Emmet stopped in front of Locker 23, glancing at Carver with a mixture of fear and desperation.
“It’s all here, just like I said,” he muttered, fumbling with the key.
Carver watched closely as Emmet unlocked the door and swung it open. Inside, stacks of stolen merchandise gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. Carver quickly verified the contents—everything was accounted for. A wave of relief washed over him, but it was short-lived.
A sudden commotion erupted nearby as a group of teenagers spilled into the station, laughing and jostling each other. Carver’s attention flickered for a split-second, but it was enough. Emmet took his chance and bolted.
“Shit!” Carver cursed, shoving the locker door shut and taking off after him.
The station was a maze of people and luggage, and Emmet darted through the crowd with the agility of a rat. Carver’s heart pounded as he pushed past confused travelers, his eyes locked on Emmet’s fleeing form.
Emmet knew Carver planned to get rid of him after retrieving the goods. Devlin had made it clear: no loose ends. Carver couldn’t let Emmet escape, not now.
Emmet vaulted over a bench, narrowly avoiding a collision with an elderly woman. Carver followed, his breath coming in sharp bursts. He was gaining on Emmet, the gap between them closing rapidly. But Emmet was desperate, driven by the primal instinct to survive.
They burst out onto the platform, where a train was just beginning to pull away. Emmet’s eyes widened with hope, and he made a mad dash for the closing doors. Carver pushed himself harder, his muscles burning with the effort.
Just as Emmet leapt toward the train, Carver lunged, his fingers brushing against Emmet’s jacket. But it wasn’t enough. Emmet twisted free and slipped into the train just as the doors slid shut. Carver slammed his fist against the glass, frustration boiling over as the train began to move.
Emmet stood inside, panting, and clutching his side. He met Carver’s gaze, a mixture of fear and defiance in his eyes. Carver knew that look—Emmet wasn’t done yet. He was still a threat.
The train disappeared into the tunnel, leaving Carver standing on the platform, seething with anger. Devlin trusted him to take care of this problem, and he’d failed.
Carver took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. He had the merchandise, but Emmet had slipped through his fingers. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. He turned and strode back through the station, his mind already racing with plans to track Emmet down.
After retrieving the stolen gods, Carver exited the station. He pulled out his phone and dialed Devlin. The call connected.
“Did you get it?” Devlin asked.
“Yeah, but Emmet got away,” Carver replied, his jaw clenched. “I’ll find him, though. He won’t get far.”
There was a brief pause before Devlin’s tone turned sharper. “And the girl? Lucy, wasn’t it? Is she going to be a problem?” Devlin asked.
Carver’s mind immediately flashed back to Lucy. He’d been wondering all day if it had been wise or stupid of him to let her leave, trusting her to keep her mouth shut. Her frightened eyes, the way she had hesitated at the door before running back to her apartment, played over and over in his mind.
