Chapter 6 - BLOOD ON THE BLACK SEASThe Atlantic Ocean was a churning abyss of black water and white-capped waves. A severe November gale battered the coast, tossing blinding sheets of rain across the night sky.
Twenty miles off the coast of Massachusetts, the Czar’s Pride rode the swell like an impenetrable floating fortress. The 300-foot luxury super-yacht was ablaze with floodlights, its radar dishes spinning rapidly as armed patrols swept the rain-slick decks with automatic rifles.
Deep within the vessel’s luxurious, mahogany-paneled master suite, eight-year-old Emma sat on the edge of a massive velvet sofa. Her hands were untied, but two hulking Russian guards stood motionless near the reinforced door.
Sitting across from her was an elderly man with immaculate silver hair, wearing a bespoke grey suit. Nikolai Sokolov sipped a glass of twenty-year-old scotch, watching the little girl with calculating, icy eyes.
"You look very much like your father, little one," Nikolai said, his voice smooth as silk, carrying a heavy Russian cadence. "Though you have your mother's stubborn mouth."
Emma glared at him, wiping a tear from her nose. "Matt is going to come for me. And he’s going to make you pay."
Nikolai chuckled softly, a dry, rattling sound. "Matt? Ah, you mean Michael. He calls himself Matteo now. A foolish boy playing at being a king. He thinks he built an empire out of blood and fear, but he never realized every stone in his castle was placed there by me."
Emma set her chin high, despite her trembling knees. "He promised me he was coming. He never breaks his promises."
"In ten minutes, my child, your father will be at the bottom of the ocean," Nikolai said coldly, checking his gold pocket watch.
Suddenly, a deafening explosion rocked the starboard side of the mega-yacht.
The glass chandelier above them shattered, raining crystal shards onto the carpet. Alarm sirens began to howl, echoing across the open sea.
"What was that?!" Nikolai snapped, standing up as his radio burst into frantic Russian chatter.
"Command! Command! We are under attack!" a guard screamed over the radio amidst the sound of roaring engines and heavy gunfire. "It’s not the authorities! It’s three high-speed stealth interceptor craft! They bypassed our radar beneath the wave troughs!"
Before Nikolai could respond, a second, massive impact jolted the ship. A blacked-out tactical helicopter, flying completely dark without navigation lights, roared fifty feet above the yacht’s helipad.
Ropes dropped from the aircraft’s bay doors.
Descending through the blinding storm like demons dropping from the heavens came Matteo Reichi and his elite assault force.
Matteo hit the wet deck hard, unhooking his carabiner in a single motion. He carried a suppressed short-barrel assault rifle. Before the deck guards could align their weapons through the torrential rain, Matteo opened fire with terrifying precision. Three guards dropped to the teak wood deck, their blood washed away instantly by the pouring rain.
"Clear the upper bridge!" Matteo ordered into his comms. "Vincent, take the engine room! Kill the power! No one leaves this ship alive!"
What followed was not a battle; it was an execution.
Matteo tore through the ship’s upper levels like a force of nature. Every door breached, every corridor cleared was executed with ruthless, surgical efficiency. He took three hits to his tactical vest, the blunt force bruising his ribs, but he didn't slow down. The image of Emma locked in the darkness pushed him forward past the limits of human endurance.
He reached the heavy double mahogany doors leading to the master stateroom.
Matteo kicked the lock mechanism, blowing the doors inward.
Inside, Nikolai Sokolov stood near the panoramic glass windows overlooking the raging sea. In his left hand, he held a sleek digital controller with a glowing red LED screen. In his right hand, he held a silver pistol pointed directly at Emma, who was huddled behind a heavy desk.
"Step back, Michael!" Nikolai roared above the storm noise. "One step closer, and I press this button!"
Matteo lowered his rifle slightly, his eyes locking onto the device in Nikolai’s hand. "What is that, Nikolai?"
"A remote signal trigger wired to a localized explosive charge placed under your mother Sarah’s hospital bed back in Boston!" Nikolai sneered, his eyes gleaming with mad triumph. "My men installed it two hours ago while your guards were busy looking at the front gate! You kill me, my finger releases the dead-man switch, and Sarah evaporates into red mist!"
Matteo’s face remained an unreadable mask of stone. "You're bluffing."
"Try me!" Nikolai screamed. "You think you're a mastermind, Matteo? You think you became the boss of Boston by your own strength? Who do you think paid off the judges who cleared your path? Who do you think leaked the rival family locations to you twenty years ago?! I MADE YOU!"
Nikolai leaned forward, his voice dropping into a sickening whisper.
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"You aren't a Rodriguez, Michael. Your mother didn't tell you the whole story before she died. Your father wasn't the poor mechanic who abandoned you... your mother was my mistress! You are my son, Michael! And Emma is my granddaughter!"
HOOK FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER:With Nikolai claiming to be Matteo’s true biological father and holding Sarah's life on a dead-man switch, Emma suddenly does something nobody expects—and a sniper shot fired from three miles away shatters the glass bridge, changing the war forever!
