Chapter 9 - The Breaching Fire
"Now!" Dominic shouted, stepping from behind the shipping container and firing two controlled rounds from his rifle.
The high-velocity rounds tore through the upper catwalk railing, striking the mercenary before he could pull the trigger.
The guard plummeted thirty feet to the wet concrete below, his heavy weapon clattering into the ocean water.
The terminal erupted into instant, chaotic violence as muzzle flashes lit up the misty darkness like strobe lights.
Morretti's personal guards reacted with ruthless speed, diving behind the black sedans and opening fire with submachine guns.
Rounds ricocheted wildly off the corrugated steel of the shipping containers, sending showers of golden sparks into the rain.
Dominic moved aggressively forward, using the hydraulic wheels of a container crane as cover while advancing on the vehicles.
"Noah!" Dominic roared over the deafening cacophony of gunfire, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Inside the sealed refrigerated crate on the pallet jack, a muffled, terrified cry answered the call.
Emma sprinted through the crossfire with astonishing athletic agility, diving behind a row of wooden pallets near the container.
"The container has a dual pneumatic exterior latch!" Emma shouted, returning fire with her nine-millimeter weapon.
"I need thirty seconds of continuous suppression fire to pop the seal without triggering the pressure release!"
Aaron Bennett dropped to his good knee behind an overturned metal drum, firing his carbine with deadly, single-handed precision.
Two of Morretti's shooters fell instantly, clutching their chests as Aaron's rounds punched through their tactical vests.
"Keep your head down, Carter!" Aaron shouted over the thunder of automatic weapons.
"I have your left flank covered!"
Dante Morretti cursed violently, dragging a bleeding bodyguard into the front seat of his armored sedan.
"Kill the old woman and destroy that crate!" Morretti screamed through the open driver's window before the tires spun out.
The black sedan lurched forward, spraying gravel and saltwater as Morretti fled toward the concrete pier ramp.
One of Morretti's remaining mercenaries turned his assault rifle directly toward the crate where Noah was trapped.
Eleanor screamed, diving forward in an instinctive, desperate attempt to shield the crate with her frail body.
A three-round burst ripped through Eleanor's chest, throwing the elderly woman backward onto the wet asphalt.
The shooter adjusted his aim, leveling the weapon directly at Emma as she struggled with the heavy iron latch of the crate.
"Emma, look out!" Michael Russo screamed from the shadows of the container corridor.
Michael sprinted directly into the line of fire, throwing his entire body between the shooter and the young nurse.
Two heavy caliber rounds struck Michael in the side and abdomen, the sickening impact spinning him around in mid-air.
Michael collapsed across the wooden pallet, blood pouring from his open wounds onto the rain-soaked wood.
Dominic charged out from the crane's shadow with cold, unbridled savagery, raising his weapon with absolute focus.
He placed three rapid rounds through the mercenary's tactical visor, ending the threat before the man could chamber another cartridge.
The remaining Morretti guards scattered into the fog toward the secondary dock, realizing their employer had abandoned them.
Dominic did not pursue them; he dropped his empty rifle and threw himself against the heavy steel door of the crate.
With a violent heave of his shoulders, Dominic wrenched the hydraulic lock bar upward until the seal snapped with a loud hiss.
The heavy insulated door swung open into the cold night air.
Curled into a ball inside the dark, frigid interior was Noah, his small face blue from the cold and streaked with tears.
He was shivering uncontrollably, his small hands clutching the torn fabric of his dinosaur hoodie.
"Daddy!" the boy shrieked, throwing his little arms violently around Dominic's neck.
Dominic pulled his son out of the darkness, burying his face into the wet fleece of the boy's hood as tears burned his eyes.
"I have you, Noah," Dominic whispered, his voice breaking as his powerful arms held the trembling child against his chest.
"Daddy is right here; nobody will ever touch you again."
Noah clung to his father's neck with all the strength in his small body, burying his face against Dominic's shoulder.
Emma moved immediately to Michael's side, tearing open her trauma kit and ripping through sterile packaging with her teeth.
Michael was gasping for air, bright pink foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth as his lungs filled with blood.
"Tension pneumothorax on the right side," Emma diagnosed instantly, her hands moving with fierce, calculated precision.
She produced a long, heavy decompression needle and drove it cleanly between Michael's ribs without a second of hesitation.
A sharp hiss of trapped air escaped from the chest cavity, and Michael let out a ragged, agonizing gasp of relief.
"Hold still, Michael," Emma said, pressing sterile occlusive seals over the entrance wounds.
"The pressure is relieved, but you have internal bleeding in your abdominal cavity."
Michael looked up through half-closed eyes, his bloody fingers reaching weakly toward Dominic and the child.
"Is... is Noah breathing, Dom?" Michael whispered, his voice faint and fragile beneath the roaring storm.
Dominic carried Noah over to where his dying brother lay in the rain and knelt beside the bloody pallet.
"He is safe, Michael," Dominic said softly, his voice thick with uncharacteristic emotion.
"You took the bullet for him."
"You saved your nephew's life."
A faint, trembling smile touched Michael's pale lips through the blood and rain.
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"I... I fixed the rattle, Dom," Michael whispered, his eyes rolling toward the dark sky as his consciousness faded.
"I finally fixed it."
