Chương 7 - The Battle for Pier 42
The storm over Lake Michigan raged with ferocious intensity as midnight approached. Rain lashed against the high windows of the Moretti mansion, but inside, I couldn't sit still.
I paced back and forth in the grand library, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. Valerie sat near the fireplace, quietly reading a book, while Sophia slept peacefully on the leather sofa wrapped in a warm wool blanket.
"You should sit down, Maya," Valerie said softly, turning a page. "Vincent has conducted operations like this fifty times. He knows what he's doing."
"This is different," I whispered, staring out the dark window toward the distant glow of the city skyline. "Marcus Drake is insane. He's cornered, and a cornered rat will burn down the whole house just to kill the cat."
"Vincent isn't a cat," Valerie replied flatly. "He's the lion."
At Pier 42, three miles away, the dark waters of the river sloshed violently against the concrete pylons.
Marcus Drake stood inside the glass-walled control tower overlooking the shipping yard. He was forty-five, a scarred, muscular brute with a heavy assault rifle slung over his shoulder. Surrounding the terminal were thirty of his hardest mercenaries, armed to the teeth, guarding the heavy steel gates.
"Any sign of the Moretti convoy?" Drake barked into his walkie-talkie.
"Nothing on the main road, boss," the guard at the outer gate replied through static. "It's quiet. Just rain."
"Stay alert!" Drake snarled. "Moretti isn't going to let—"
The lights inside the control tower suddenly cut out, plunging the entire shipping terminal into pitch-black darkness.
"What the hell?" Drake swore, grabbing his night-vision goggles from the desk. "Check the generator house!"
Before the guard could respond, a deafening explosion echoed across the yard.
A blinding flash of orange fire erupted from the main gate as a reinforced steel snowplow attached to a massive black truck smashed through the iron barriers, obliterating two of Drake's pickup trucks in a shower of sparks and twisted metal.
Behind the snowplow came four black armored SUVs, their high beams cutting through the heavy rain.
Muzzle flashes strobed through the darkness as Moretti's men engaged Drake's shooters. The sound of heavy gunfire rattled off the metal shipping containers like hail on a tin roof.
Inside the yard, Vincent Moretti walked calmly behind his frontline enforcers, holding a silenced submachine gun. He moved with cold, surgical precision, dropping two of Drake's shooters before they even pulled their triggers.
"Clear the north stack!" Vincent commanded into his tactical headset. "Marco, take the west crane! Don't let anyone near the fuel storage tanks!"
Within fifteen minutes, the superior training and ruthless coordination of the Moretti syndicate systematically dismantled Drake's perimeter.
Inside the control tower, Marcus Drake panicked. He grabbed a heavy black duffel bag stuffed with cash and ran down the metal spiral staircase toward the rear exit leading to the docks, where a high-speed speedboat was tied to the pier.
As he kicked open the lower steel door to step onto the rain-slicked dock, a shadow stepped out from behind a stack of wooden crates.
Vincent Moretti was standing in the pouring rain, holding his pistol at his side.
Drake froze, dropping his duffel bag, his hands rushing toward the assault rifle hanging at his chest.
THWIP. THWIP.
Two suppressed rounds slammed into Drake's right shoulder and left knee.
Drake screamed, collapsing onto the wet concrete, his rifle sliding uselessly into the dark water of the river.
Vincent walked over slowly, his heavy boots splashing through the puddles. He stopped beside the groaning, bleeding man, stepping heavily onto Drake's crushed knee.
Drake howled in agony. "Moretti! Please—it was Vance! Vance ordered the hit on Linwood! I was just taking orders!"
Vincent stooped down, grabbing Drake by his hair, pulling his head back so their eyes met in the darkness.
"You helped Vance torture a helpless girl three years ago, Drake," Vincent whispered softly into his ear. "You held her down while he burned her."
Drake’s eyes widened in sheer terror as he realized Vincent wasn't here for business.
"Please..." Drake whimpered.
May you like
"My city has no room for monsters like you," Vincent said quietly.
A single shot rang out into the rainy night, swallowed by the roar of the wind over Lake Michigan.
