Chapter 27 - The Obsidian Protocol
*The Sovereign Queen* slammed into the rusted lower dock of the offshore rig with a bone-jarring crash. Steel shrieked against steel as our vessel’s reinforced bow wedged itself permanently into the rig’s lower scaffolding.
"Matteo! Stay with Clara in the lower armored hold!" Silas commanded, strapping two tactical belts across his chest. "If anyone comes down those stairs who isn't me or Elena, drop the watertight doors and blow the fuel reserves!"
"Understood, Boss!" Matteo cocked his weapon, standing guard before Clara’s door.
Silas handed me a compact 9mm sidearm, checking my grip. "Safety is off. Shoot center mass. Stay behind me, but don't hesitate."
"I never hesitate when it comes to her," I said.
We breached the rig’s lower catwalks under the cover of blinding rain and darkness. Silas moved through the labyrinth of rusting pipes and steel grates with supernatural precision. Every guard posted on the lower decks was eliminated silently—a knife to the throat, a suppressed shot, a swift pull over the iron railing into the roaring sea below.
Within five minutes, we had reached the primary laboratory level beneath the helipad.
The heavy blast doors were sealed with an electronic keypad. Silas stepped to the control terminal, typing a fourteen-digit military bypass code from memory.
The door hissed open, revealing a sterile, brightly lit laboratory. Dozens of computer servers hummed in temperature-controlled racks, surrounding a central operating theater equipped with biometric centrifuges and cryogenic pods.
Standing by the central terminal was Colonel Sterling, shoving hard drives into a waterproof tactical case. Beside him stood three heavily armored Blackwatch commandos.
"You're too late, Silas," Sterling said, not even turning around as he closed the latch on his case. "The Obsidian Protocol has already been triggered."
"Shut it down, Arthur," Silas commanded, raising his rifle.
Sterling turned, a triumphant, deranged smirk spreading across his weathered face. "I can't. The moment your ship breached our docking perimeter, an automated encrypted transmission was dispatched to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. You and your entire syndicate have been officially designated an armed domestic terror organization."
Silas didn't blink. "You think I care about federal indictments?"
"You will care when two carrier-based F-35s arrive in ten minutes to turn this entire rig—and your little boat down below—into scrap metal," Sterling sneered. "They believe this facility was seized by an armed cartel. You won't leave this ocean alive, Silas. Hand over the girl’s blood profile, and I’ll cancel the airstrike."
"You're lying," I stepped out from behind Silas, raising my sidearm directly at Sterling’s forehead. "You don't have the authority to call off an automated protocol. You're trying to buy time until that helicopter warms up."
Sterling looked at me, his eyes widening in surprise at my composure. "The waitress has teeth."
May you like
"She has claws, Sterling," Silas snarled. "And you made the mistake of stepping into her territory."
***
