Chapter 6 - The Siege of Warehouse 14
The warehouse plunged into darkness as Marco's team severed the primary power feeds. A second later, emergency floodlights flickered on with an eerie yellow hum, casting harsh, elongated shadows across the damp concrete floor.
Salvatore led his loyal men through the southern loading bays with lethal, military precision. The sound of gunfire erupted almost instantly—short, disciplined bursts that echoed like thunderclaps off the steel rafters.
I stayed close behind Salvatore, my medical kit clutched tightly in my hand. Gunfire cracked around us, chipping concrete flakes off the support pillars. Salvatore moved with an unnatural, terrifying grace; despite the massive physical trauma his body had endured for eight years, the sudden absence of chronic pain seemed to have unleashed a reservoir of suppressed, furious energy. Every shot he fired found a mark, systematically disarming and neutralizing Carmine's hired mercenaries.
"Up to the catwalks!" someone shouted from above.
A sniper stationed on the overhead gantry swung an assault rifle toward Salvatore's blind spot. Without thinking, I hurled a heavy iron pipe fitting from an open crate against the corrugated siding, creating a deafening clang that echoed through the bay. The sniper's aim twitched toward the sound for a fraction of a second—giving Salvatore just enough time to pivot and drop him with two precise center-mass shots.
Salvatore glanced back at me through the smoke, his dark eyes burning with fierce approval. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Doctor."
We fought our way toward the executive shipping offices overlooking the private harbor slipway. Through the reinforced plate-glass windows of the second-story office, we could see Carmine furiously stuffing stacks of bearer bonds and foreign passports into a heavy duffel bag.
Salvatore kicked the heavy oak door off its hinges with a splintering crash.
Carmine spun around, dropping the duffel bag. In his right hand gleamed the pristine, silver-inlaid Sphinx 3000 competition handgun.
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"Stay back!" Carmine screamed, his eyes wild with terror and desperation. "Stay back, Sal, or I swear to God I'll finish what I started eight years ago!"
Behind Carmine, through the wide bay window, the cargo freighter was beginning to cast off its moorings, drifting slowly away from the pier.
