Chapter 46 - Breach of the Iron Leviathan
Silas attached a ribbon charge along the seam of the heavy hydraulic blast doors leading into the panoramic observation suite. He flashed three fingers, then two, then one.
The charges cracked with a blinding flash and an ear-splitting concussion, tearing the locks away from the steel frame. Silas kicked the doors inward with the force of an avalanche, his rifle already raised, firing in rapid bursts.
The interior of the observation lounge was breathtakingly decadent—gleaming mahogany paneling, leather wingback armchairs, and floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass overlooking the raging Atlantic storm.
Three elite bodyguards dropped before they could raise their sidearms. But behind the center glass desk, Arthur Marcone did not flinch.
He sat immaculately tailored in a charcoal-gray suit, a glass of amber scotch resting beside his right hand. Sitting in the massive leather chair beside him was Clara.
She was clutching her small stuffed rabbit, her cheeks stained with dried tears. When she saw us, her blue eyes widened with pure joy and terror. "Mama! Daddy!"
"Clara, stay still!" I shouted, dropping to one knee, keeping my weapon leveled directly at Arthur Marcone’s chest.
"Ah, the prodigal son returns," Arthur Marcone said smoothly, ignoring the smoking barrels pointed at his skull. He gently ran his wrinkled, manicured hand over Clara’s hair. "And he brought his stray."
"Take your hand off my daughter, Arthur," Silas commanded, his voice trembling with a deadly resonance that rattled the glassware on the bar. "Or I will paint this glass with your brains."
Arthur smiled, a cruel, mocking curve of his lips. "You always were so sentimental, Silas. That was why you failed to purge the Syndicate twenty years ago. You thought you could rule from the shadows with 'honor.' But there is no honor in sovereign power. There is only dominance."
"You abandoned me," Silas snarled, taking a slow step forward, his rifle steady. "You burned three hundred men alive at Berth Nine just to fake your death and steal the Consortium’s offshore accounts!"
"I built an empire that commands nations!" Arthur roared, slamming his glass onto the table. The ice cubes clinked sharply. "And I did it so that one day, my bloodline would inherit the earth! Look at her, Silas! Look at your daughter! She didn't cry when I showed her the schematics of our fleet. She didn't flinch when the storm shook the hull. She has the iron of a true Marcone! She belongs to the horizon, not to a filthy diner floor with an orphaned waitress!"
"She belongs with us," I hissed, my finger tightening on the trigger.
"Is that so?" Arthur whispered. He reached inside his jacket, not for a gun, but for a small black transmitter. "Did you really think I wouldn't anticipate you coming for her, Silas? Did you really believe your old man would leave his escape route unpaved?"
May you like
He depressed the thumb switch.
***
