Chapter 12 - Standing Side by Side in the Lion's Den
The car crashed down onto the yacht's lower swim platform in a violent collision of metal, fiberglass, and freezing spray.
The vehicle's airbags deployed, but Mara and I were already kicking open the doors, emerging with weapons blazing.
The yacht’s crew of elite mercenaries scrambled to repel the boarding, but they were no match for the combined fury of a man avenging his family and an operative fighting for redemption.
Mara moved like a whirlwind of lethal grace. She cleared the lower deck with terrifying precision, taking down three guards in hand-to-hand combat, using their own weapons against them, while I advanced up the port-side stairs, eliminating the heavy gunners on the bridge.
The superyacht was speeding out into the dark, churning waves of Lake Michigan, surrounded by the raging snowstorm. The Chicago skyline was fading behind us into a blur of amber and blue lights.
I kicked open the doors to the main salon.
Victor Vance was waiting inside. He had discarded his rifle and stood holding a combat blade, his scarred face twisted into a demonic sneer.
"You're just like your father, Dante," Vance mocked, circling slowly like a caged animal. "Rich, arrogant, and foolish enough to think you can beat a soldier."
"My father was ten times the man you'll ever be," I replied, tossing my empty sidearm aside and drawing my own combat knife. "And he didn't need to hide behind mercenaries."
Vance lunged with blinding speed, slashing toward my throat.
I blocked his forearm with my blade, the steel ringing loudly, and drove a knee into his ribs. Vance absorbed the blow, spinning and delivering a backhand that caught me across the cheek, sending me crashing into a mahogany dining table.
He leapt forward to drive his blade through my chest, but Mara appeared like a ghost from the shadows.
She executed a flying side kick that struck Vance square in the jaw, sending the 220-pound mercenary crashing into the salon's glass bar.
Vance roared in pain, lunging at Mara with murderous fury. He slashed her wounded shoulder, causing her to cry out and stumble backward.
Seeing her hurt ignited a primal, uncontrollable rage inside me.
I surged forward, tackling Vance through the reinforced glass doors onto the open aft deck. We crashed onto the wet teak flooring beneath the freezing rain.
Vance raised his knife for a fatal strike, but I caught his wrist with both hands, twisting it with all my strength until the bone snapped with a sickening crunch. The blade dropped into the churning water below.
Before he could recover, I landed three brutal punches to his face, pinning him against the stern railing.
"This is for my parents," I whispered into his ear.
May you like
With a final, decisive surge of power, I hurled Victor Vance over the railing and into the freezing, pitch-black abyss of Lake Michigan. The churning propellers and the icy currents swallowed him whole.
The ghost was finally dead.
