Chapter 10 - Siege on the Iron Docks of Chicago
A furious roar of gunfire erupted outside as Khnets realized he had been trapped.
"Vincent, take the tower controls and lock down the harbor gates!" Elena ordered, turning toward the door. "Khnets is trying to scuttle the lead freighter to destroy the evidence!"
"Wait!" Vincent grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Khnets has twenty heavily armed elite guards on that ship. You can't board it alone."
"I spent six years preparing for this, Vincent," she said, her voice trembling with raw, burning determination. "This is my family's justice. I am not letting him slip away in the dark."
Vincent looked into her eyes and saw the unbreakable fire of a true sovereign. He didn't try to stop her. Instead, he pulled two high-capacity magazines from his tactical vest and slammed them into her hands.
"Then we take him together," Vincent said.
Leaving Gregory handcuffed to the radiator pipes in the control tower, Vincent and Elena descended into the war zone.
The rain was an absolute tempest, mixing with the fire and smoke rising from the blown generator stations. Together, Vincent and Elena moved like a twin force of destruction across the docks. Vincent provided heavy, lethal suppressing fire, clearing the snipers from the crane gantries with ruthless precision, while Elena moved like a shadow, eliminating Khnets’ flankers with brutal, close-quarters combat.
Every time an enemy aimed at Vincent, Elena’s blade or bullet found them first. Every time Elena was pinned down by automatic fire, Vincent charged into the breach, eliminating the threat with unyielding dominance.
They weren't just partners; they fought like two halves of a single, devastating weapon.
They reached the gangway of the massive cargo freighter just as Khnets and his remaining six elite bodyguards were preparing to cast off the mooring lines.
"Khnets!" Vincent’s roar echoed over the sound of the thunder and the churning lake waters.
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The Russian Don spun around, raising a heavy Kalashnikov rifle, his scarred face twisted in psychotic rage. "Romano! You should have stayed dead in your burning ballroom!"
"Drop the weapon, Roman," Elena said, stepping out from behind a steel shipping container, her rifle leveled squarely between his eyes. "Or die on your knees like the dog you are."
