Chapter 22 - Shadows from the Potomac
By midday, Berth Nine had been converted into an armed fortress.
The harbor was locked down tighter than an iron coffin. Giant container ships had been dragged across the entrance of the bay, forming an impenetrable barrier against any maritime infiltration. On the roofs of the rusted warehouses, fifty hardened longshoremen armed with high-powered rifles stood watch beneath the grey sky.
Inside the glass-paneled office overlooking the bay, Silas stood before the mahogany table, unrolling a faded topographical map that predated the Sovereign Syndicate by a decade. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing old shrapnel scars crisscrossing his back.
"Tell me the truth, Silas," I demanded, setting Clara’s favorite coloring book down on the desk where she slept soundly on the velvet sofa, exhausted from the morning's terror. "You told me you were just a disgraced soldier who bought up the piers with blood money. You never told me our daughter was on a government kill list."
Silas closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose. When he opened them, the darkness inside was bottomless.
"Before I ruled this harbor, Elena, I was the spearhead of Task Force Blackwatch. We operated in black sites no map acknowledges. Sterling was my commanding officer. Twelve years ago, Sterling’s division developed synthetic biometric antibodies meant to survive biological warfare. To test stability, they altered the genetic markers of their tier-one operatives."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "They altered you."
"Yes," Silas said quietly, walking over to brush a stray curl of hair from Clara's forehead. "I survived the trials. But I refused to let them turn us into biological commodities. I burned the lab, faked my death, and seized New York's docks to hide in plain sight. I thought the genetic alterations died with me."
"And Clara?" I choked out, tears stinging my eyes. "She has your blood."
"She carries the only pure, stable strain in existence," Silas whispered, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned bone-white. "She isn't just my daughter, Elena. To them, she is a multi-billion-dollar military prototype. And Sterling has finally found us."
Suddenly, the door was thrown open. Matteo stumbled inside, his radio blaring static.
"Boss! We’ve got company at the southern checkpoint. Three black armored Suburbans, no plates, escorted by a convoy of federal marshals. But they aren't marshals, Silas. They’re carrying suppressed carbines and military-grade body armor."
Silas didn't flinch. The cold, calculating mask of the Sovereign Boss snapped back into place. He pulled a silver-plated .45 from the holster beneath his arm, checked the chamber, and racked the slide with a clean, sharp snap.
"Let them through the gate, Matteo," Silas commanded.
"Silas, are you crazy?!" I gasped, stepping in front of Clara.
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"They didn't come to shoot today, Elena," Silas replied, his eyes burning like twin furnaces. "Sterling came to negotiate. And I'm going to show him what happens to men who threaten my family."
***
