Chapter 65
The giant didn't wait for Cole to recover. He lunged forward, swinging the heavy kinetic axe in a brutal, decapitating arc.
Cole ducked underneath the strike, feeling the wind of the blade graze the top of his tactical helmet. The axe embedded itself deeply into the reinforced steel of the console behind him, showering the bridge in sparks.
Cole didn't retreat. He stepped inside the giant’s guard, driving a devastating combination of rapid, close-quarters strikes to the man’s armored ribs and throat.
The giant grunted, absorbing the blows with terrifying resilience. He ripped the axe free from the console and swung the heavy handle backward, catching Cole squarely in the chest.
The impact cracked two of Cole’s ribs. He staggered backward, gasping for air.
"You are out of your depth, Ghost," the giant sneered, advancing relentlessly. "The Leviathan has hunted monsters far worse than you."
"You haven't met me," Cole whispered, his vision blurring slightly, but the apex predator within him refusing to yield.
Cole drew his ceramic combat knife, holding it in a reverse grip. He knew he couldn't match the man’s brutal strength; he had to rely on lethal, surgical precision.
The giant swung the axe overhead, intending to split Cole in two.
Cole didn't block. He sidestepped the massive strike at the absolute last microsecond. As the heavy axe crashed into the steel deck, Cole lunged. He drove the ceramic blade flawlessly into the unprotected gap beneath the giant’s armpit, severing the brachial artery.
The giant roared in agony, dropping the axe.
Cole didn't stop. He grabbed the man’s tactical harness, pivoting his hips, and threw the massive mercenary over his shoulder in a brutal judo throw, slamming him violently onto the steel deck.
Cole knelt over the bleeding giant, pressing the bloody blade against the man’s throat.
"Where is your commander?" Cole demanded, his voice a low, vibrating hum of absolute death. "Where is the head of the Leviathan?"
"He isn't... here," the giant choked out, blood bubbling on his lips. "He is in Chicago. We were just the distraction."
The revelation hit Cole like a physical blow. The entire staging ground in Seattle, the massive submarine—it was all a brilliantly orchestrated, multi-million dollar decoy designed to draw him away from Vincent and Clara.
"Sarah!" Cole roared into his comms. "Contact Vincent! The hit is in Chicago! Tell him to lock down the estate!"
"Cole, I can't reach him!" Sarah panicked, the sound of her frantic typing echoing over the line. "The communication lines to the Chicago estate have been completely severed. They are totally blacked out!"
Cole pulled his knife free, leaving the giant to die on the bridge, and sprinted back through the submarine.
He burst out of the warehouse into the foggy courtyard. Donovan was still laying down sporadic cover fire, keeping the panicked mercenaries pinned near the burning vehicles.
"Donovan! Cease fire! We are leaving!" Cole commanded, running toward their hidden vehicle.
"What happened, Boss?" Donovan asked, scrambling down the gantry ladder.
"They played us," Cole growled, throwing himself into the driver's seat of the tactical truck as Sarah climbed into the back. "The Leviathan commander is in Chicago. He’s going after Vincent."
"We can't fly to Chicago, Cole," Sarah warned, checking her flight manifests. "The federal burn notice is still active. If we step on a plane, we get arrested."
"We aren't flying," Cole stated coldly, gripping the steering wheel. He threw the heavy truck into gear, tearing out of the port. "We are driving."
May you like
"Cole, it’s a thirty-hour drive!" Donovan protested. "Vincent will be fighting an army on his own for two days!"
"Vincent Castalano held off the European Syndicates by himself," Cole said, his gray eyes burning with fierce, unyielding trust in his ally. "He can hold off a ghost ship for thirty hours. I just have to hope he leaves some for me."
