Chapter 26 - The Lion's Retribution
Rain poured over Lake Michigan like a torrential shroud, turning the industrial docks of Calumet Harbor into a maze of slick black asphalt and rusted shipping containers. The wind wailed through the cranes, masking the low, rhythmic hum of three blacked-out SUVs approaching the perimeter.
Inside the lead vehicle, Vincent sat in silence, checking the slide on his customized SIG Sauer. Beside him, Dante was synchronizing thermal imaging goggles with the perimeter drone feed.
"Six hostiles outside the main hangar," Dante reported, his voice low over the comms. "All heavily armed. Two snipers on the crane gantries. Inside, thermal shows at least a dozen heat signatures. One of them is stationary, seated on a gurney—matches Vance’s physical profile with the wounded knee."
"And Sterling?" Vincent asked.
"Thermal picked up a luxury armored Maybach idling inside the hangar near the water exit," Dante replied. "Sterling is there in person. He’s overseeing the evacuation himself."
Vincent clicked the magazine into his weapon. "Take out the snipers simultaneously. The moment the towers go dark, breach through the roof and south bay doors. I take the floor. Sterling belongs to the family. Vance belongs to Elena."
"Understood, Boss."
Through the encrypted earpiece, the voice of the Donati sniper team crackled: *"Targets locked. Three... two... one."*
Two dull, suppressed thuds echoed over the roar of the rain. On the crane towers, two bodies slumped against the railings, their rifles falling silently into the churning dark waters of the harbor.
"Move," Vincent commanded.
The heavy steel doors of the hangar buckled inward as a Donati tactical ram breached the lock. Flashbang grenades arced through the gap, detonating in a series of blinding, concussive white flashes: *BANG! BANG! BANG!*
Screams of disorientation erupted inside the hangar.
Vincent was the first through the breach. He moved with terrifying, fluid lethality—a shadow born of violence. His weapon barked twice, dropping a mercenary raising an AK-47 before the man could clear his safety. Vincent pivoted, firing three rounds through the wooden crate where a second guard hid, dropping him instantly.
Crossfire tore through the warehouse. Bullets chewed through concrete pillars and ricocheted off steel shipping containers. Dante and the Donati strike force fanned out in military formation, clearing corners with surgical, brutal efficiency.
Near the water dock, Councilman Sterling, his immaculate hair disheveled and his silver tie askew, was desperately trying to climb into the passenger seat of his armored Maybach.
"Go! Drive, you idiot!" Sterling shrieked at his driver.
Vincent sprinted across the concrete floor, ignoring the bullets snapping past his ears. He raised his weapon and put two heavy caliber rounds directly through the driver’s side windshield. The driver slumped over the steering wheel, his foot slipping off the gas, the engine roaring uselessly in park.
Sterling froze, terror turning his aristocratic face into a mask of pure, trembling horror as Vincent reached the driver’s side, ripped the door open, reached across the dead driver, and dragged Sterling out by his collar, hurling him across the concrete floor like a sack of garbage.
Sterling crashed onto his back, gasping for breath, clutching his bruised ribs. "Donati! Wait! Wait! We can talk! I have thirty million dollars in untraceable bonds in Zurich! I can give you Luciano’s entire offshore network!"
Vincent stepped forward, planting his heavy combat boot directly onto Sterling’s platinum signet ring, slowly applying his full weight until the bone beneath the metal cracked with a sickening snap.
Sterling screamed, curling in agony.
"I don't need your money, Councilman," Vincent whispered, his voice colder than the rain falling outside. "Where is Marcus Vance?"
Sterling wept, pointing a trembling, uninjured hand toward the cargo elevator leading down to the underground dry-dock. "He... he went down! He took the maintenance boat! He has a hostage!"
Vincent’s blood turned to ice. "What hostage?"
Sterling swallowed blood. "He... he had one of his men bring a nurse from your manor... an hour before you hit the catacombs! He wanted insurance!"
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Vincent didn't wait to hear another word. He leveled his gun and put a bullet through Sterling’s shoulder, leaving him screaming on the concrete for Dante to secure, and sprinted toward the open elevator shaft, plunging down the metal stairs into the dark abyss below.
***
