Chapter 6 - Fire on the Docks
The second explosion hit closer—a concussive blast that blew out the upper windows of warehouse three, showering the mahogany-lined office with jagged shards of glass.
Trevino moved with terrifying speed. In a fraction of a second, he lunged across the room, grabbing Norma by the arm and shoving her behind a heavy oak filing cabinet just as a burst of automatic gunfire raked through the exterior wall, chewing splinters out of the bookshelves.
"Stay down!" Trevino ordered, drawing a sleek, suppressed pistol from a holster concealed beneath his suit jacket.
"Bruno!" Norma screamed, shielding the puppy with her own body as glass rained down around them.
"He's safe. Keep your head down!" Trevino's voice was ice-cold, completely devoid of panic. He flicked a heavy brass toggle switch on his desk, activating the building's emergency lockdown shutters. Heavy steel plates slammed down over the windows, plunging the office into sudden, dim crimson emergency lighting.
Through the heavy metal door, the sound of shouting and gunfire echoed up the stairwell. Moretti’s men had breached the perimeter. They weren't just sending a message; they were executing a full-scale hit on Trevino's primary shipping terminal.
"They tracked your car yesterday, didn't they?" Norma yelled over the roar of another distant explosion, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"They tracked a supply truck," Trevino corrected, reloading his weapon with practiced, mechanical efficiency. He glanced down at Norma, assessing her state of panic. To his surprise, while her face was pale, her eyes were locked onto his with fierce determination, not cowardice. "Can you shoot?"
"I can handle a rifle, not a handgun!" Norma shouted back.
Trevino reached into a hidden compartment beneath his desk and pulled out a compact, short-barreled Remington tactical shotgun, sliding it across the floor toward her. "Keep the safety on until you're ready to clear a doorway. If anyone other than my security team comes through that door, you pull the trigger without hesitation."
Norma’s hands shook as she gripped the cold steel stock of the shotgun. She had hunted small game in the Appalachian foothills with her father, but pointing a weapon at a human being was a threshold she had never imagined crossing.
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"Trevino!" a voice roared from the hallway outside, amplified through a tactical bullhorn. "It's over, Ice King! Hand over the books, and maybe we leave your corpse in one piece!"
Trevino didn't answer. He stood silently beside the heavy oak door, his pistol raised, his breathing slow and controlled. He looked less like a corporate tycoon and more like an apex predator waiting in the dark.
