Chapter 62
The war room beneath the Montana ranch instantly transitioned into a high-stakes command center. Donovan stood by the door, having secured the perimeter, her assault rifle resting comfortably in her hands.
"If they hit Chicago, they know we are connected," Cole reasoned, pacing the floor. "Vincent, did they leave any digital footprint?"
"Nothing," Vincent replied over the comms. "They used localized thermite charges and untraceable kinetic weapons. But I have Silas pulling the analog security footage from the surrounding city blocks. We have a visual on their transport."
"Send it," Sarah instructed.
A grainy, black-and-white video feed appeared on Sarah’s monitor. It showed a convoy of heavy, unmarked armored vehicles speeding away from the burning ruins of the hospital. But it wasn't the vehicles that caught Cole’s attention.
"Freeze that frame," Cole commanded, leaning closer to the screen.
He pointed to a faint, stenciled insignia on the side of the lead vehicle. It was a stylized, jagged anchor wrapped in heavy chains.
"I know that crest," Donovan whispered from the doorway, her face draining of color. "That’s Spetsnaz Naval Infantry. Specifically, a black-ops detachment that went rogue during the fall of the Soviet Union. They operate entirely out of decommissioned nuclear submarines. They call themselves the Leviathan."
"They aren't just mercenaries," Cole realized, the terrifying scope of the threat settling over him. "They are a stateless military force. They have the training of tier-one operators and the firepower of a sovereign nation."
"And they operate from the bottom of the ocean," Vincent’s voice echoed through the speakers. "Which is why your satellite wipe didn't affect them. They don't use the sky."
"Why are they targeting you, Vincent?" Ava asked, stepping into the room, her maternal terror fighting her fierce resolve.
"Because I humiliated the old syndicates," Vincent stated coldly. "The Leviathan wants to fill the power vacuum left by the Vanguard. To do that, they have to prove that the men who destroyed the Vanguard—you and I, Cole—are mortal. They want to make a public spectacle of our executions."
"They won't get the chance," Cole swore, the apex predator fully, dangerously awake. "Vincent, fortify your remaining assets. I am going to find out where they are staging their operations."
"They already told us," Sarah interrupted, her fingers flying across the keyboard, her eyes wide with panic. "Cole, the routing algorithms for their encrypted communications... they aren't coming from Russia. They are bouncing off localized cell towers."
"Where?" Cole demanded.
"Seattle," Sarah swallowed hard. "They are mobilizing a strike force on the West Coast."
Cole’s blood turned to ice. "They know about the ranch. They are trying to box us in."
"I am mobilizing the Ghost Legion," Vincent declared over the line, the terrifying, ruthless King of Chicago returning to the board. "I am sending fifty heavily armed operatives to your location, Cole. We hold the line together."
"Negative, Vincent," Cole refused instantly. "If you send an army across the country, the federal government will intercept them, and the Leviathan will hit Chicago while your defenses are down. Keep your men. Protect Clara."
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"Then how do you fight a rogue naval detachment in the middle of Montana?" Vincent asked.
"We don't," Cole smiled—a dark, terrifying expression of pure, unadulterated malice. "We take the fight to them. Sarah, track that signal in Seattle. Donovan, prep the heavy ordnance. We are going hunting."
