Chapter 8 - Infiltrating the Black Market Sovereign
The rain over Lake Michigan turned into a freezing sleet as the blacked-out tactical zodiac boat cut through the choppy, pitch-black water toward Port 14.
The port was heavily illuminated by floodlights, crawling with heavily armed mercenaries wearing Romano Syndicate armbands. Two massive cargo freighters belonging to Khnets' front company were tied to the main pier, offloading wooden crates filled with military-grade munitions and illegal narcotics.
Vincent and Elena surfaced through the submerged service grate of dock four, moving like two lethal shadows through the steam and fog.
"Thermal scans show Gregory in the primary control tower," Elena whispered through her tactical comms, peering through her thermal scope. "Khnets is on the deck of the lead freighter with his personal guard. They’re preparing the execution orders for your loyal lieutenants."
"We split the serpent's head," Vincent replied, checking his suppressed sidearm. "I take Gregory and reclaim the tower. You take out the generator and secure the freighter's bridge so Khnets can't escape into open water."
Elena looked at him, her eyes fierce in the dark. "Don't kill Gregory too quickly. I want him to know who took his empire away."
"I'll save a bullet for you," Vincent promised, leaning in to brush a quick, fierce kiss against her lips. "Move."
Elena vanished into the shipping container maze with ghostly silence.
Vincent advanced toward the control tower. He eliminated three sentries with silent, lethal efficiency, his suppressed pistol spitting fire without alerting the docks. He kicked open the heavy metal door of the command room on the third floor.
Gregory Harrison was standing over a console, champagne flute in hand, laughing into a satellite phone.
"I tell you, Roman, the city is ours. Vincent's body is probably floating in the river by now—"
The heavy crunch of a boot behind him made Gregory spin around. The champagne glass shattered on the linoleum floor.
Vincent stood in the doorway, his eyes colder than the winter rain outside.
"You always did celebrate too early, Gregory," Vincent said smoothly.
May you like
Gregory turned white as a sheet, his hand darting toward the desk drawer. Vincent fired a single round, punching a hole through Gregory's right shoulder, pinning him against the wall with a scream of agony.
"Sit down," Vincent commanded, stepping into the room. "We're waiting for a guest."
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