Chapter 15 - The Lion's Wrath
Muzzle flashes strobed through the pitch-black warehouse like erratic lightning. High-caliber rounds chewed through the concrete pillars, sending stone shrapnel spraying into the air.
Vincent dropped to one knee, rolling behind a heavy iron forklift as lead sparked violently off its rusted frame. His night-vision goggles snapped into place, bathing the world in phosphor green.
On the overhead gantries, seven masked gunners armed with MP5s were laying down suppressive fire, attempting to pin Vincent down while a second squad moved in from the shipping container maze.
"Two high at two o’clock! Three flanking left!" Vincent barked over the tactical frequency. He leaned around the tire of the forklift, acquired the first target, and squeezed the trigger twice.
*Thwip-thwip.*
The first shooter on the catwalk took two double-taps to the chest and plunged thirty feet into the concrete below with a sickening crunch. Vincent pivoted, firing three rounds through a wooden pallet, catching a flanking attacker directly in the throat.
The Black Guard responded with brutal, synchronized efficiency. Silenced gunfire cracked in rhythmic bursts. Enemy bodies dropped from the scaffolding, splashing into the rainwater puddles.
Within two minutes, the gunfire ceased, replaced only by the groaning of the storm and the labored breathing of dying men.
Vincent walked through the carnage, checking the dead with cold detachment. He grabbed one surviving mercenary who was dragging himself toward an exit, clutching a shattered femur. Vincent planted his heavy combat boot on the man’s broken leg, pressing down until the soldier shrieked in agony.
"Who paid you?" Vincent asked, voice devoid of human emotion.
"You're... you're too late, Don Falcone," the mercenary spat, blood bubbling on his lips. "The girl... the estate... you left her with a viper..."
Vincent's eyes widened. "What did you say?"
"The strike here... was a diversion," the dying man wheezed, a grotesque smile spreading across his bloodied face. "Did you really think the Consigliere waited outside in the car?"
May you like
Vincent pulled his Kimber, fired one round into the mercenary's skull without blinking, and sprinted for the exit into the howling storm.
***
