Chapter 5 - The Clash In The Mist
The swamp woods exploded into chaos thirty seconds later.
The German Shepherd charged through the shallow water, teeth bared, leaping directly at Cole.
A single muffled snap hissed from Vincent’s suppressed pistol.
The dog dropped instantly into the reeds without making another sound.
“What was that?” the handler yelled from forty yards out.
“Buster! Buster, heel!”
Pike’s flashlight beam cut through the branches, catching the dark silhouettes of Gabriel’s men.
“Target spotted! Open fire!” Pike roared.
Automatic gunfire tore through the cypress grove.
Rounds shredded tree bark, sending wooden splinters raining down into the swamp water.
Cole ducked, covering his head with his arms, completely overwhelmed by the deafening sound of violence.
Gabriel did not flinch.
He pushed Cole firmly behind the massive trunk of the oak tree.
“Stay down and keep your head tucked,” Gabriel ordered calmly.
Gabriel raised his hand, signaling his tactical squad.
Six of Moretti’s most seasoned enforcers—men who had fought gang wars across the eastern seaboard—returned fire with surgical discipline.
No wild spraying.
Controlled, double-tap bursts from suppressed rifles.
Muffled cracks echoed through the damp air: thwip-thwip, thwip-thwip.
The dog handler went down with a cry, clutching his shattered kneecap.
Another Blackridge mercenary spun around and collapsed into the water as a round pierced his tactical vest.
“Fall back to the tree line!” Pike screamed, realizing instantly that he was not fighting an unarmed clerk.
“They’ve got heavy backup! Who the hell are these guys?!”
Reeves was crouching behind a fallen log, firing blindly into the fog.
“Pike, this isn't Mercer!” Reeves shouted in terror.
“These are professional shooters! Look at their grouping!”
Pike squinted through the smoke and muzzle flashes.
Through the mist, he saw the tall, imposing figure of Gabriel Moretti stepping out from behind cover.
Gabriel held a customized black automatic pistol at his side, moving with the terrifying composure of a man who had walked through hell a thousand times.
Pike recognized that face instantly.
The photograph in Blackridge’s private blackmail file.
The boss of the Bellhaven docks.
“Moretti!” Pike snarled, bringing his rifle up to align on Gabriel’s chest.
Before Pike could squeeze the trigger, Vincent flanked around the cypress roots from the left.
A single heavy round smashed directly into Pike’s rifle receiver, blowing the weapon out of his hands in a shower of sparks and metal shards.
Pike screamed as the recoil and shrapnel tore the flesh of his fingers.
He scrambled backward through the mud like a crab, clutching his mangled right hand.
“Pike, we have to go!” Reeves yelled, grabbing Pike by the shoulder and dragging him toward the road.
“Get the trucks! Move!”
The remaining Blackridge mercenaries scrambled through the brush in full retreat, abandoning their wounded comrade in the water.
Within ninety seconds, the roar of their SUV engines signaled their desperate escape down Route 9.
Silence returned to the swamp, broken only by the steady dripping of rain from the Spanish moss.
The wounded Blackridge guard groaned in the mud, holding his knee.
Gabriel walked over to him, standing tall over the shivering man.
He looked down with eyes that held no mercy.
“Tell Richard Blackridge that Gabriel Moretti sends his regards,” Gabriel said softly.
“And tell him that every drop of blood Emma Whitaker spilled tonight will cost him one million dollars of his empire.”
The guard nodded frantically, weeping from pain and terror.
Vincent walked back to Gabriel’s side.
“Clean sweep. None of our men were hit.”
“Good,” Gabriel said.
“Put Mercer in the back of the Suburban.”
Cole stepped out from behind the oak tree, covered in mud, his legs trembling so violently he could barely walk.
He stared at Gabriel, his voice choked with raw emotion.
“You really have her?”
“I told you I did,” Gabriel replied.
“Is she... is she in pain?”
“She took a bullet meant for your chest, Mercer.”
“She is in pain, but she is alive.”
“And she told me where you hid the drive.”
Cole’s eyes widened in realization.
“Saint Michael’s Cemetery.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to dig it up?”
“Vincent is already dispatching a team to retrieve it before Pike realizes where it is.”
Gabriel turned and walked toward the convoy of idling Suburbans waiting on the gravel access road.
Cole hurried behind him, trying to keep pace with Gabriel’s long strides.
“Mr. Moretti... why are you doing this?” Cole asked, his voice filled with genuine bewilderment.
“You don’t know us.”
“We’re nobody in this town.”
Gabriel stopped with his hand on the heavy door handle of the black truck.
He looked back at the terrified young father-to-be.
For a moment, Gabriel remembered seven years ago.
He remembered the hospital room where his brother’s pregnant wife had lost her life in an ambush meant for him.
He remembered the cold, empty crib that had sat in his family mansion for years, a silent monument to his own failures.
“Nobody in my city gets hunted like an animal while carrying an unborn child,” Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low rumble.
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“Get in the truck, Mercer.”
“We have a family to put back together.”
