Chapter 4 - A Bullet in the Rain
Victor’s hand clamped down gently but firmly on Adriana’s shoulder. “Keep shooting.”
She pulled the viewfinder back to her eye. The shutter rattled: click-click-click.
Every frame captured the impossible alliance. Lorenzo Voss, the trusted lieutenant. Raymond Vance, the pristine prosecutor. And the steel container, stamped with the seal of the United States Treasury Department, being loaded with illicit contraband from Victor’s private logistics hub.
“They’re framing you for federal treason,” Adriana whispered, her heart pounding against her ribs. “If this container leaves this pier, federal agents will raid your properties tomorrow morning. They’ll find the counterfeit treasury bonds inside, and Vance will hold a press conference by noon.”
“A complete decapitation of my syndicate,” Victor said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Clean, legal, and absolute.”
Suddenly, a laser sight painted a bright red dot against the driver's side window of their Maybach.
“Sniper! Down!” Marco yelled.
A deafening crack echoed across the shipping yard. The Maybach’s reinforced windshield spiderwebbed with white fractures.
Victor reacted instantly. He wrapped his arm around Adriana’s waist, violently pulling her down to the asphalt as a second high-caliber round tore through the side mirror where her head had been half a second before.
Water splashed across Adriana’s face as they hit the wet ground. Victor rolled over, covering her entirely with his body, his heavy tactical coat acting as a barrier against flying glass and ricochets.
“Are you hit?” Victor demanded, his eyes burning into hers in the dark.
“No! I’m good—the camera’s good!” she stammered, adrenaline surging through her veins.
“Stay on the ground!”
Victor drew a custom matte-black Sig Sauer from beneath his arm. Marco was already returning fire with an automatic submachine gun, peppering the high scaffolding where the sniper was perched.
“Marco! Suppressing fire on the catwalk! We move to the maintenance bay!” Victor commanded.
Gunfire ripped through the industrial silence. The sound of automatic weapons rattled against the metal containers like hail.
Adriana crawled on her elbows through the rain, dragging her heavy camera bag with one hand while Victor kept one arm anchored to her belt, pulling her behind a stack of industrial wooden pallets.
A bullet splintered the wood inches above them.
“They know we’re here,” Adriana gasped, catching her breath. “Lorenzo’s men are flanking around the crane!”
“They know someone is here,” Victor corrected. “They don't know who.”
He peeked around the corner, fired three precise shots, and an enemy scout dropped from the top of an adjacent container with a dull thud.
Victor turned back to Adriana. In the chaos of smoke, rain, and muzzle flashes, his eyes were completely clear, devoid of panic. He reached out and brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek.
“Do you trust me, Adriana?”
The question caught her completely off guard. She looked at this terrifying man—a man the world feared as an untouchable monster—who was currently risking his life to shield a photographer he had met five hours ago.
“Yes,” she said without hesitating.
“When I move, you run toward the water drainage conduit on the left. Marco will cover you. You do not stop for anything. If I fall behind, you keep running until you hit the public street, and you call the emergency number on Marco’s phone.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Adriana said, her voice fiercely defiant. “You need these photos, Victor. Without them, you’re just a criminal with a gun. With them, you’re the man who exposes the whole damn city.”
May you like
Victor stared at her, a dark, dangerous smile curving his lips.
“Then let’s make sure we both survive to develop them.”
