Chapter 4 - The Strike at the DocksAt 4:00 AM, the heavy storm over Boston harbor reached its absolute peak, driving sheets of freezing rain across the dark, industrial containers of Pier 9.
Six black armored SUVs belonging to the Conti syndicate pulled to a silent stop behind a row of rusted shipping crates.
Inside the lead vehicle, Matteo sat wearing a heavy black tactical coat over his vest, checking the secondary clip of his custom sidearm. Beside him sat me, wearing an oversized wool coat and dark trousers, holding an encrypted communications tablet.
"You shouldn't be here, Clara," Matteo noted flatly, adjusting his shoulder holster.
"It's my father's land lease, Conti," I retorted, holding my chin high, my hazel eyes bright with an unshakeable determination. "And if we're going to take down the man who threatened my mother, I'm not going to sit in a bedroom on Beacon Hill waiting for a phone call."
Matteo stared at me for three long seconds. Then, a low, low laugh rumbled through his chest.
"You really are Arthur Vance's daughter," Matteo murmured, reaching out to gently tuck a lock of my dark hair behind my ear. "Stay behind Leo. Keep your vest fastened."
"Yes, Boss," I replied with a subtle, mocking bow.
BOOM!
The reinforced steel doors of Warehouse 4—Julian Vane's primary command post at the docks—were blown off their hinges by Leo's breach team in a shower of sparks and pulverized concrete.
Matteo's operators flooded into the high-ceilinged space, their suppressed weapons clearing the perimeter in a rapid, ninety-second exchange of precise, lethal fire.
Matteo walked down the center aisle of the warehouse, his boots clicking against the wet concrete floor, his sidearm held low at his hip. Walking directly behind his right shoulder, holding my head high, was me.
Cowering behind a overturned forklift at the end of the bay, bruised, pale, and sweating through his greasy coat, was Julian Vane.
When Julian saw Matteo walk toward him—unharmed, absolute, and accompanied by the girl he was supposed to kill at the Velvet Room—his jaw sagged open in total, horror-stricken shock.
"Conti...!" Julian shrieked, backing away against the concrete wall. "How... how did you bypass the perimeter security at the harbor?!"
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Matteo stopped ten feet away, his storm-gray eyes cold as Arctic ice.
"I didn't bypass it, Julian," Matteo spoke smoothly, his baritone carried easily over the sound of the rain against the metal roof. "I own it."
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