Chapter 33 - Nightfall at the DocksMidnight at the Boston Docks was a grim, industrial wasteland of rusting shipping containers, crane towers, and freezing ocean spray.
An unmarked black van rolled silently past the security gates of warehouse 44. Inside sat Roman Vascari, wearing a dark tactical jacket, his face illuminated only by the green glow of his tactical radio.
He wasn't alone. Pulling up alongside him in a second vehicle was Marco Bellini—who had dropped everything in Maine the moment Roman called—alongside a specialized federal tactical unit.
"You didn't have to fly down here, Marco," Roman said into the comms headset.
"And miss a chance to put Nikolai Rostov back in the ground?" Marco’s voice crackled back through the earpiece with a sharp chuckle. "Not a chance, Boss. Besides, nobody messes with my boat shop."
"All units, listen up," Roman commanded, his voice dropping into the cold, rhythmic cadence of a seasoned commander. "We go in silent. Celeste is initiating the logic bomb right now. You have a ninety-second window before Rostov's mercenaries realize their systems are locked. Move fast, secure the server room, and take no chances."
Click.
From miles away in the federal command center, Celeste hit the enter key.
Across the city at warehouse 44, every security camera, automated floodlight, and electronic door lock instantly flickered and died. Total, suffocating darkness enveloped the compound.
May you like
"Now," Roman whispered.
The tactical team moved like shadows through the breach.
