Chapter 35 - Blood in the Docks
The convoy did not use sirens.
Two matte-black armored SUVs slipped through the rain-slicked streets of Brooklyn like ghosts cutting through the fog. The storm was reaching its crescendo, wind lashing off the Atlantic and hurling garbage across the desolate avenues of the industrial district.
Dante sat in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, loading heavy 12-gauge slug rounds into an automatic combat shotgun with mechanical rhythm. *Thump. Thump. Thump.*
"You stay in the vehicle with Marcus until the breach is confirmed," Dante said without looking at Maya.
"No," Maya said firmly.
Dante paused, his thumb holding the fourth shell against the loading port. He turned his head slowly. "Maya. This is not a diner. There will be no negotiations. There will only be slaughter."
"I know what you are," Maya said, her eyes unwavering, staring directly into the dark abyss of his gaze. "I saw what you did at the diner. I saw the men you killed on the road. But Sofia isn't afraid of the mob. She is afraid of the dark. When you blow that door open, when you shoot the men holding her... the first face she sees cannot be a monster covered in blood. It has to be me. She has to hear a voice that told her she was safe."
Dante stared at her for five long seconds. The silence inside the SUV was thick enough to choke on.
Finally, he clicked the shell home.
"If a shot is fired near you, you drop to the ground," he said softly. "If I fall, Marcus will pull you out. You run, and you do not look back."
"You won't fall," Maya replied.
The SUV turned a tight corner onto a cracked asphalt lot hemmed in by rusted chain-link fences and razor wire. Ahead, rising out of the mist like a decaying monolith, stood the St. Jude Industrial Laundry Facility.
Three guard posts with tinted windows guarded the main entrance. Two men in heavy rain gear stood near the loading dock, holding submachine guns under their ponchos.
Dante didn't wait for Marcus to stop the vehicle.
He kicked the passenger door open while the SUV was still rolling at twenty miles per hour, hitting the wet pavement in a fluid roll and coming up on one knee.
*BANG.*
The shotgun roared, spitting a gout of flame into the night. The first sentry was lifted off his feet, his body thrown through the wooden doors of the guard shack. Before the second guard could raise his weapon, Dante had closed the distance, his sidearm clearing the holster in a blur of motion.
*Crack. Crack.*
Two rounds struck the second guard in the chest, dropping him instantly onto the wet gravel.
"Breach team, rear exit!" Dante yelled into his throat mic. "Seal the loading bays! No one leaves this building alive!"
From behind the SUV, Marcus and three tactical operatives moved forward in a textbook wedge formation, their suppressed carbines coughing in rapid succession as they neutralized the perimeter perimeter cameras and secondary watch points.
Maya scrambled out of the vehicle, staying low, the scent of burning gunpowder burning her nostrils. The metal siding of the warehouse shuddered as Dante kicked the service door off its frame with a single, brutal thrust of his heel.
May you like
They were inside.
***
