Chapter 13 - The Descent into HellBy midnight, the Vance private jet was touching down on a clandestine tarmac in the Meadowlands, far from the prying eyes of Port Authority radar.
The rain was coming down in sheets now, turning the industrial wasteland of New Jersey into a grey, churning blur. We rode in the back of an armored Suburban, the heavy glass windows proof against armor-piercing rounds. Marcus drove, while two other SUVs packed with our most trusted shadow-ops veterans bracketed us like grey wolves.
“The target is an abandoned pneumatic freight terminal beneath the old Woolworth building,” Elias said, laying a tactical map across his knees. He flicked a digital stylus across the screen, illuminating blue and red schematics. “Julian has set up his command node three sub-levels down, inside the old pneumatic mail tubes. It’s a dead zone for cellular signals, but our encrypted satellite relay will maintain our comms.”
I sat beside him, loading a silver-plated Beretta with the practiced ease of someone who had learned that survival in this world required more than prayers.
“What about the girls?” I asked, my voice tight.
“They’re at the secure safehouse in the Adirondacks,” Elias replied without looking up from the map. “Guarded by forty men and an automated turret system that could stop a tank battalion. They are safer there than anywhere else on earth.”
“And you?” I reached out, touching the rough fabric of his tactical vest. “You’re walking into his trap.”
Elias looked up, his dark eyes softening just an inch as he covered my hand with his own.
“It’s not a trap, Ava, if we know the spring is loaded,” he murmured. “Julian thinks he’s playing the Rossi game. He thinks because we share blood, I won't put a bullet between his eyes. He’s forgotten who I am.”
The Suburban came to a screeching halt inside the rusted loading bay of the terminal.
The air smelled of damp earth, old coal dust, and the unmistakable metallic tang of fear.
As the doors opened, the sound of the rain was replaced by the low, ominous hum of heavy diesel generators echoing from the depths of the earth.
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“Stay behind me,” Elias ordered, chambering a round in his custom rifle with a sharp, metallic clack. “If anything moves in the shadows, you don't ask questions. You shoot.”
We stepped out into the dark.
