Chapter 4 - The Meatpacking Vault
They moved through the rusted service entrance like ghosts slipping through a graveyard. Roman led the way, his weapon raised, clearing corners with mechanical precision. Bee stayed glued to his broad back, holding her tote bag against her chest like an infant shield. The warehouse smelled of wet concrete, ammonia, and ancient copper—the lingering ghost of its past as an industrial slaughterhouse. Overhead, heavy steel hooks hung from ceiling rails, swaying gently in the damp drafts blowing through broken skylights.
Distant gunshots rattled from the front yard where Dante’s men were pinning down the main assault force, but inside, the silence was thick, heavy, and lethal.
""Tommy!"" Bee called out in a sharp, urgent whisper. ""Tommy, where are you?!""
""Quiet,"" Roman hissed, shoving her behind a towering stack of wooden pallets.
From the shadows of the central meat locker, a sniveling, disheveled figure emerged, clutching a rusty iron pipe. Tommy Gallagher looked like a walking corpse. His expensive designer jacket was torn to shreds, his face was bruised purple around the left eye, and he was trembling so violently that the pipe clattered against his knees.
""Bee?"" Tommy sobbed, stumbling forward into the dim yellow beam of an emergency floodlight. ""Bee, you brought it? Tell me you brought the book! They’re gonna skin me alive, Bee, they’re—""
Tommy’s words died in his throat as Roman stepped out from the shadows beside his sister. Tommy’s knees literally gave out, sending him crashing onto the damp sawdust covering the floor.
""D-Don Cavali..."" Tommy stammered, wetting his lips, his eyes rolling back in sheer, unadulterated horror. ""I—I didn't steal it! I was holding it for you! The Albanians, they threatened my mother, they said—""
""Save your breath, Thomas,"" Roman said, his voice dropping into that chilling, lethal cadence that made the hairs on the back of Bee's neck stand up. ""You sold my transit manifests to Krasniqi for fifty thousand dollars down and a promise of safe passage to Tirana. You broke my trust, endangered my family, and dragged your sister into the line of fire.""
""He didn't know I would come!"" Bee stepped out from behind Roman, placing herself directly between the mafia boss and her cowering brother. Her maternal fury momentarily overwhelmed her survival instinct. She marched up to Tommy and kicked him sharply in the shin. ""You pathetic, lying worm! You told me it was a two-hundred-thousand gambling marker! You didn't tell me you were selling state secrets to foreign warlords!""
""Ow! Bee, stop! He’s gonna shoot me!"" Tommy wailed, crawling backward.
""I might shoot you first!"" Bee snapped, turning to glare at Roman. ""Listen, Cavali. He’s an idiot. A complete, irredeemable moron with zero impulse control. But he’s my brother. You take the ledger, you wipe the debt, you let us leave, and I will personally ensure he spends the next ten years working in a salt mine to pay me back for my ruined shoes!""
Before Roman could reply, the heavy steel double doors of the loading dock blew inward with a deafening crack.
A stun grenade flashed white, blinding them all with an explosive roar that shattered the remaining windows. Bee screamed as shockwaves knocked her to the floor. Through the swirling smoke, three men in tactical gear advanced, their assault rifles raised, followed by a towering figure in a heavy leather trench coat.
Viktor Krasniqi.
""Roman!"" Krasniqi’s voice boomed through the cavernous space, accented and thick with sadistic pleasure. ""How kind of you to deliver the prize in person! And you brought family! How wonderfully traditional!""
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Roman didn't waste breath on words. Still partially blinded by the flash, he fired three consecutive rounds toward the muzzle flashes, catching the point man in the throat. The man collapsed with a gurgling shriek, but Krasniqi’s second operative returned fire instantly. A round ripped through Roman’s left shoulder, spinning him around and spraying crimson across the pale concrete wall.
""Roman!"" Bee cried out, ignoring the ringing in her ears and crawling toward him through the hail of ricocheting bullets.
