Beneath the Docks

The air changed as Declan descended.

The metal hatch above him creaked shut with a soft echo, leaving only the narrow beam of his flashlight to cut through the darkness. Cold dampness settled in the narrow stairwell, the scent of salt and rust pressing in with every step.

Each creak of the old metal beneath his boots reminded him how long it had been since anyone stood here.

At the bottom, the tunnel stretched forward—low, narrow, and carved from rough concrete. Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, pooling along the uneven floor. The sound filled the quiet, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat underground.

Declan adjusted his flashlight, the beam bouncing off rusted pipes that lined the walls, leading deeper into the shadows.

"Of course it's creepy," he muttered, stepping carefully over a rusted chain.

Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of machinery echoed—a low, mechanical whine that didn't belong in an abandoned tunnel.

Connolly Estate – Liam's Room

Liam sat cross-legged on his bed, the map of Midtown unfolded in front of him. His finger traced the thin, faded lines leading from Warehouse 17 to the docks.

"Lad, you're going to wear holes in that paper," Dwan's voice drifted from the doorway.

Liam didn't look up.

"Declan's still down there."

Dwan leaned against the frame, arms crossed.

"He'll manage. Your brother's not as reckless as you think."

Liam smirked faintly.

"He left without backup. That's reckless."

"Maybe he thought sending you would be worse."

Liam chuckled softly, folding the map with careful precision.

"He's probably right."

Dwan watched him for a moment longer.

"You trust him to handle it?"

Liam set the map aside, resting his chin in his hand.

"I trust him to try. But Ferraro's already looking for weaknesses. If Declan finds something down there, Ferraro will know soon enough."

Dwan's gaze darkened slightly.

"Ferraro's bold, but he's not stupid. He won't make his move until he's certain."

Liam's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Unless he thinks we're uncertain first."

Warehouse 17 – Underground Tunnel

Declan moved slowly, flashlight grazing over the rusted pipes along the tunnel walls.

His steps were careful—not silent, but deliberate. This wasn't unfamiliar ground. His father's business often dealt in places that existed beneath the surface—places no one cared to search.

But this one felt different.

Halfway down the tunnel, a heavy steel door emerged from the concrete.

Declan's flashlight flickered over it, catching the faint outline of the Connolly crest engraved into the metal.

His hand drifted to the key in his pocket, the one Liam had found in the box.

"I hate when he's right," Declan muttered under his breath, pulling it out.

The key slid into the lock with barely a sound.

It clicked softly, and the heavy door eased open, revealing a chamber beyond the threshold.

Inside the Chamber

The room was larger than Declan expected—old, forgotten, but not empty.

Wooden crates stacked three high filled the back wall, their surfaces damp but sealed and intact.

Declan knelt beside one, brushing away dust and dirt until the Connolly crest reappeared beneath his fingertips.

"Dad didn't tell anyone about this," he murmured.

The crate creaked as he pried it open.

Inside lay rows of weapons—clean, untouched. Assault rifles, handguns, all wrapped in plastic to preserve them.

"So this is where he hid everything."

Declan's flashlight moved further along the chamber, stopping at a steel case tucked behind the crates.

The case was small, about the size of a briefcase, with Michael Connolly's initials embossed along the corner.

Declan's stomach twisted slightly.

This wasn't just an arms cache. This was personal.

Connolly Estate – Upstairs Study

Liam leaned over the chessboard in the study, moving pieces absentmindedly.

His phone buzzed once beside him.

He picked it up without looking.

"Did you find something?"

Declan's voice was quiet over the line.

"Weapons. Stashed beneath the docks. But there's something else."

Liam sat up, setting the knight piece aside.

"What kind of something else?"

Declan hesitated.

"A case. Dad's initials on it."

Liam's brows lifted slightly.

"Is it locked?"

"Yeah. But I'll handle it when I'm back."

Liam frowned, tilting his head.

"You're not opening it there?"

Declan's voice dropped lower.

"I've got a feeling whatever's inside... it's not for down here."

Liam paused, the hum of the phone filling the silence between them.

"Bring it back," Liam said finally. "I want to see it."

"I figured you would."

The line went dead, and Liam set the phone aside, staring at the chessboard again.

Dwan's voice drifted from the corner.

"That was fast."

Liam didn't look up.

"Dad left something for him, too."

Dwan crossed the room, studying Liam carefully.

"You sound too sure of that."

Liam tapped his temple lightly with his finger.

"I know how Dad thought. He wouldn't leave me the key without leaving something else for Declan to carry."

Dwan exhaled, rubbing his chin.

"You planning on telling him that?"

Liam smirked faintly.

"No. I want to see how long it takes him to figure it out."

Dwan shook his head with a quiet chuckle.

"You're dangerous, lad."

"So was Dad."

Dwan's smile faded slightly.

"That's what worries me."

Liam didn't answer. He didn't need to.