Chapter 3 - Shadows on the East River
The rain had begun to fall in heavy, wind-driven sheets by the time the convoy of three black SUVs turned off Flushing Avenue and crawled toward the decaying brick warehouses of the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
Inside the lead vehicle, Elena sat in absolute silence, her fingers tracing the smooth, heavy barrel of a steel-handled restoration scalpel she had slipped into her coat pocket back at her apartment. She wasn't a killer, and she knew it; but she also knew that in a world governed by leverage and blood, a sharp blade was worth more than a thousand pleas for mercy.
Dante sat beside her, checking the magazine of a matte-black Glock with mechanical precision before sliding it back into his shoulder holster.
"The building at Pier 14 is a decommissioned textile mill," Dante whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear over the drumming of rain on the roof. "Nikolai uses it to process cash and hold collateral. There are at least twelve armed guards inside, rotation patrols every fifteen minutes, and security cameras covering all three access points."
"And my father?" Elena asked, staring out the fogged window at the looming, dilapidated silhouette of the brick warehouse against the gray harbor.
"If he's still breathing, he'll be in the sub-basement office where they keep the ledger servers," Dante replied bluntly. "I don't sugarcoat things, Elena. If you panic inside, you die. If you freeze, you die. Do you understand?"
"I restore priceless art under ultraviolet light while brokers scream at me over speakerphone," she snapped back quietly. "I don't panic under pressure, Dante. I focus."
A faint, grim smile touched his lips. "Good."
The SUVs rolled to a stop behind a rusted shipping container fifty yards from the loading bay of Pier 14. The driver cut the lights and killed the engine.
Dante turned to his men. "Vance, secure the perimeter. Scar, take the roof access. Nobody leaves this block until I give the word."
"Boss," Vance murmured, glancing sideways at Elena. "What about her?"
"She stays with me," Dante said without missing a beat. "She’s the only one who can identify the security overrides on her father’s encrypted ledger tablets if Nikolai wiped the mainframe."
Elena didn't bother correcting him; she hadn't planned on sitting in the car anyway.
They moved out of the vehicles like ghosts, melting into the driving rain and the dense shadows of the rusted cargo cranes. The salt air stung Elena’s nose, mixing with the metallic tang of fear and adrenaline. Her pink bunny slippers were long gone, replaced by heavy combat boots Dante had unceremoniously handed her before they left the penthouse—a pair that fit her surprisingly well.
They reached a rusted service door on the side of the mill. Scar—whose real name Elena was beginning to suspect was entirely classified—pulled a small electronic tuner from his pocket, scanned the digital keypad for three seconds, and punched in a sequence.
Click.
May you like
The heavy metal door swung inward, releasing a wave of stagnant air, damp concrete, and the faint, coppery scent of old blood.
Elena swallowed hard, gripping the handle of her scalpel inside her coat pocket, and stepped over the threshold into the lion's den.
