Chapter 16 - The Red Hook AmbushThe Red Hook dry docks were a ghost town of towering shipping containers and rusted cranes, illuminated only by the harsh, yellow glare of overhead halogen lamps.
At the center of Dock 4, a dozen luxury black sedans formed a protective perimeter around warehouse B. Inside, music played faintly over heavy bass speakers—a celebratory toast hosted by Vance and the leaders of the Marseille Syndicate.
Our speedboat glided silently into the slipway beneath the pier, cutting its engines a hundred yards out. We swam the final distance through the freezing, oil-slicked water, pulling ourselves up onto the concrete pilings like shadows rising from the deep.
"Status check," I whispered into the encrypted comm-link, crouching behind a stack of steel shipping containers.
"Perimeter guards neutralized," Sophia’s voice crackled back from the opposite flank. "Three snipers on the crane towers are down. The roof is clear."
"Move in," I commanded.
We breached warehouse B simultaneously from the loading bays. The heavy metal doors slid open with a soft, oiled hiss.
Inside, twenty high-ranking capos and Marseille lieutenants sat around a long folding table littered with champagne bottles, cash ledgers, and contract titles bearing the Moretti family seal. At the head of the table stood Vance, holding a glass of crystal champagne, raising a toast to his new empire.
"To the fall of the Moretti dynasty," Vance laughed, clinking his glass against a Marseille lieutenant's. "And the dawn of a new global cartel!"
"I'm afraid your toast is premature, Vance," I said.
May you like
The voice echoed off the cavernous concrete walls like a thunderclap.
Every head at the table snapped toward the entrance. Vance’s smile vanished instantly, the glass slipping from his fingers and shattering into a thousand glittering pieces on the concrete floor.
