"He Knocked a Waitress Unconscious in Front of Everyone—Then the Mafia Boss Stood Up and Locked the Doors / Chapter 56 / 60

Chapter 56 - Ghost on the Bridge

The bridge of the *Archon* was bathed in an eerie crimson combat light.

Helena von Berg stood by the forward viewports, an immaculate figure in an ivory cashmere coat that contrasted sharply with the tactical chaos around her. In her slender fingers, she held a crystal glass of amber scotch.

"Report," she said softly, her Swiss accent smooth as polished ice.

"Breach team six has gone silent in the sub-corridors of Berth Nine, Director," a naval officer reported from the radar console. "We have lost telemetry on the sweep unit. We suspect Major Marcone engaged them personally."

Helena smiled faintly, taking a sip from her glass. "Silas was always predictable. A rabid dog who thinks muscles and old military doctrine can defeat modern capital. Let him thrash. Once we vaporize the berth, we will retrieve the child from the rubble. The bloodline DNA is all we need to unlock the deep-sea sovereign vaults."

"I wouldn't count on that, Helena."

The voice didn't come from the radio. It came from the shadowed hatch at the rear of the bridge.

The guards turned their weapons, but Silas moved like a phantom born of darkness. A suppressed *thwip-thwip* sounded twice, and the two forward guards collapsed before their rifles could clear their holsters.

Silas stepped onto the bridge, soaked in black sea-water, his eyes glowing with predatory malice.

Helena didn't flinch, though her knuckles turned slightly pale around her scotch glass. "Silas. You survived the dive. I should have known the Hudson’s filth wouldn't be enough to drown you."

"Your fleet is sitting on twenty thousand tons of scuttling charges, Helena," Silas said calmly, advancing step by step across the steel grated deck. "My father didn't borrow your money to build a shipping empire. He borrowed it to build a trap to wipe out your entire Council when the time came."

Helena let out a sharp, aristocratic laugh. "Arthur was a sentimental fool, and so are you! You think you hold the detonator? Look behind you, Silas."

From the shadows behind the bridge’s communications rack, a man stepped out into the red light, holding a heavy revolver aimed directly at Silas's spine.