Chapter 11 - Emma’s Abduction and the Midnight War
The rain was a raging monsoon by the time our five-car tactical convoy arrived at the industrial perimeter of Pier 42.
The Port of Seattle was a labyrinth of towering shipping containers stacked four stories high, cast in deep shadows and blinding sodium lights. Cranes loomed above like giant skeletal beasts in the storm.
Luca wore full tactical armor over his black clothes, carrying an automatic rifle. Beside him, sixty Castellano soldiers moved silently through the labyrinth of steel crates, sealing every exit point.
I refused to stay behind in the armored SUV. Dante had handed me a compact 9mm pistol and a Kevlar vest.
"Stay behind me, Ava," Luca whispered as we navigated the narrow corridor between two rows of blue shipping containers. "When the shooting starts, you drop to the ground. Understood?"
"I'm getting my daughter back," I said, my voice steady, all fear replaced by a mother's lethal resolve.
We reached the central loading dock—a massive, open-air terminal sheltered beneath a corrugated steel roof.
In the center of the concrete platform, tied to a metal support pillar, was three-year-old Emma. She was crying softly, her tiny face red and swollen, clutching her knees to her chest.
Standing ten feet away was Jake, holding a remote detonator in one hand and a revolver in the other. Surrounding him were twenty heavily armed mercenaries wearing the insignia of the Moretti syndicate, led by Don Carmine Moretti himself.
"Step out, Castellano!" Jake screamed into the rain, his voice cracking with paranoid hysteria. "I know you're here! Step out alone or I blow this entire platform to hell!"
May you like
Luca stepped out from the shadows into the harsh glare of the floodlights. He lowered his rifle, holding his hands slightly away from his sides.
"I'm here, Jake."
