Chapter 7 - Blood at the Docks
The rain hammered against the windshield of Lorenzo’s armored bulletproof SUV as it tore through the deserted streets of the industrial district. The Vane family docks were a maze of rusting shipping containers, flickering halogen lights, and armed mercenaries patrolling the perimeter. They thought they had won the war five years ago. They were about to learn that the war had only just begun.
Lorenzo killed the engine three blocks away, stepping out into the freezing downpour without an umbrella. He moved through the shadows like a ghost, his movements precise, lethal, and fueled by a burning, incandescent rage.
Clara was Elena. And Lily was his daughter.
Every footstep in the mud was a drumbeat of vengeance.
A guard stepped out from behind a stack of steel containers, a submachine gun raised. Before the man could even register the shadow detaching from the wall, Lorenzo’s knife flashed in the sodium glow. A silent, devastating strike. The guard collapsed into the sludge without a sound.
Lorenzo didn't break stride. He slipped through the side loading bay of warehouse number four, the central command post of the remaining Vane loyalists.
Inside, three men were sitting around a poker table, drinking cheap whiskey and laughing.
"I'm telling you, Moretti’s domestic staff is falling apart," one of them jeered, tossing a poker chip onto the table. "Victor’s play with the slow poison was genius. Once Clara dies, the ledger disappears forever, and Moretti will never know—"
The warehouse door blew inward with a deafening crash as Lorenzo kicked it off its reinforced steel hinges.
The three men scrambled for their weapons, but they were already dead men walking. Lorenzo’s firearm barked twice in rapid succession—two clean, deafening shots that shattered the silence. The first two mercenaries dropped instantly, their chests torn open.
The third man backed away, his hands shaking as he raised his pistol. "You... you're not supposed to be here! Victor said you'd be—"
"Victor is an idiot," Lorenzo whispered, stepping forward until the barrel of his gun pressed directly against the man's forehead. "Where is the Vane vault keycard?"
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"Safe... safe is in the office upstairs! Desk drawer! Please, don't—"
The gunshot echoed off the corrugated metal walls, silencing the man forever. Lorenzo didn't hesitate. He climbed the metal stairs two at a time, kicked open the office door, ripped the magnetic keycard from the desk drawer, and sprinted back out into the storm.
