Chapter 13 - The Fire at the Northern Docks
Thick, black plumes of smoke billowed high into the night sky, blotting out the stars above the industrial coastline.
Orange fireballs rolled upward from the Costa family's primary maritime depot, illuminating the churning waters of the bay in violent shades of crimson.
The private town car screeched to a halt half a mile away from the perimeter gates, blocked by emergency response barricades and fleeing dockworkers.
Roman slammed his door open and stepped out onto the asphalt, the distant heat of the explosion washing over his face like an open furnace.
Marcus ran toward them from a parked patrol cruiser, his tactical vest scorched and covered in gray soot.
“Boss, thank God you weren’t at the warehouse,” Marcus shouted over the wailing sirens.
“What happened?” Roman demanded, pulling his suppressed sidearm from his coat.
“It wasn't an accidental tank leak,” Marcus explained, coughing through the acrid chemical fumes.
“A tactical team in unmarked black Zodiac boats approached from the water and breached dock seven with military-grade thermite charges.”
“They targeted the specific warehouse where the physical paper manifests for the European shipments were being cataloged.”
Harper stepped out of the vehicle, wrapping her coat tightly around her torso against the bitter sea wind.
“They’re destroying the paper trails,” Harper stated, her analytical mind piecing the puzzle together instantly.
“Moretti knows the digital drives are encrypted, but he wanted to incinerate the physical bills of lading before federal regulators could subpoena them.”
Roman looked from the roaring inferno back toward the quiet, forested hills where the Costa estate sat isolated in the distance.
A cold, sickening dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
“This isn't an attack to destroy evidence,” Roman murmured, his eyes widening with sudden realization.
“Boss?” Marcus asked, confused.
“Moretti has been doing business in this city for forty years,” Roman said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper.
“He knows physical paper manifests have digital backups in three off-site servers.”
“He didn't blow up this terminal to burn paper.”
“He blew it up to draw every available armed enforcer away from the estate.”
Roman spun around and grabbed Harper by the waist, shoving her back into the reinforced town car.
“Get inside, now!” Roman barked.
“Roman, what is it?” Harper asked, her heart leaping into her throat as she scrambled into the leather interior.
“The estate,” Roman snarled, diving into the seat beside her and slamming the heavy door shut.
“The security grid at the house runs on half-power during a Tier-One industrial emergency because all municipal auxiliary units are diverted to the docks.”
“Elena knew that protocol because she designed the security framework three years ago.”
Roman picked up the radio transmitter on the console, switching to the estate's private encrypted frequency.
“Security command, this is Costa—report status immediately!”
Static hissed over the line, followed by the faint, terrifying sound of automatic gunfire rattling in the background.
“—under heavy fire... perimeter sensors breached at the east greenhouse... they have heavy ordnance—!”
The radio went abruptly dead with a high-pitched squeal.
“Drive!” Roman roared at the chauffeur, chambering a round into his automatic rifle with a deafening metallic clack.
“Blow through every red light in the city!”
The heavy sedan leaped forward, its tires screaming against the wet pavement as it tore through the barricades.
Harper reached down into the hidden door compartment, her fingers closing around the cold steel of a compact semi-automatic pistol Roman had stashed there.
She checked the magazine with practiced efficiency, her hands remarkably steady despite the terror threatening to consume her.
“You stay behind me when we breach the gates,” Roman ordered, his jaw set in stone as he loaded spare magazines into his tactical vest.
“We fight together, Roman,” Harper replied, meeting his fierce glare with an unyielding intensity of her own.
“You gave me your name, and you gave me this family.”
“I’m not sitting in the backseat while someone tries to burn it to the ground.”
Roman looked at her for a long, silent second, seeing the absolute fire burning behind her dark eyes.
He didn't argue.
Instead, he reached out, pulled her head toward his, and kissed her fiercely amid the flashing red dashboard lights.
“Then don’t miss,” Roman whispered against her lips.
The sedan crested the top of the hill, and the massive wrought-iron gates of the Costa estate came into view.
May you like
The iron gates were mangled and blown inward off their stone pillars, surrounded by smoking wreckage and the flashing red strobes of disabled security drones.
The battle for the Costa empire had officially reached its doorstep.
