Chapter 28 - Operation South Side
The rain began to fall in heavy, wind-driven sheets by the time our convoy slipped into the shadows of the abandoned dry dock sector on the south side of the city. The skeletal remains of rusted cranes and towering gantry frames loomed like ancient beasts against the bruised, dark-gray evening sky.
Inside the command vehicle, the tactical display glowed with thermal imaging feeds transmitted by our overhead drone. The target structure—a derelict corrugated-metal warehouse sitting directly on the edge of the stagnant river basin—showed three heat signatures clustered on the ground floor, and one terrified, smaller signature bound to a chair in the center office upstairs.
Victor checked the magazine of his sidearm with a familiar, fluid motion, sliding it home with a sharp click before securing it in his shoulder holster. He looked across the dim interior of the vehicle at me, where I was locking the slide of my own compact customized Walther pistol.
"You're staying in the perimeter vehicle, Sadi," Victor said, his tone leaving no room for argument, though the familiar warmth in his eyes softened the command.
"We discussed this back at the estate, Victor," I replied calmly, pulling on a pair of tactical leather gloves. "You are the shield, but I am the architect of this operation. I go where the strategy is executed."
He let out a short, reluctant breath, half-smiling despite the gravity of the situation. "Stubborn as ever. Just stay behind my left shoulder."
"Always," I agreed.
The breach was executed with military precision. Without a sound, our enforcers neutralized the two exterior lookouts stationed by the loading bay doors. The heavy metal sliding door was pried open just enough for Victor and me, flanked by four tactical specialists, to slip inside into the pitch-black interior.
The air inside smelled of stagnant water, mold, and old grease. We moved through the maze of rusted industrial machinery like ghosts, guided by the thermal feed on our tactical monitors. As we reached the central staircase leading up to the office mezzanine, a voice echoed down from above—harsh, raspy, and laced with arrogance.
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"Tell your boss at Castello logistics that the harbor belongs to the Maroni syndicate now! A little girl is just the down payment!"
Victor didn't wait for further dialogue. He motioned with two fingers, and the team surged up the metal stairs in a synchronized wave of disciplined force.
