Chapter 73 - The Blood Trench
The wall of fire bought us only five minutes. Out of the smoke, the massive iron prow of the *Cerberus* smashed through the flaming debris, shrugging off the heat like a prehistoric leviathan. Grappling hooks propelled by pneumatic launchers slammed into the *Valkyrie*'s gunwales, biting deep into our outer hull with screeching metallic groans.
"Boarders on the lower deck!" Beatrice yelled, drawing twin semi-automatic pistols from her belt. Her knuckles were pale, but her aim was steady.
"Guard Leo," I told Julian, shoving a combat shotgun into his uninjured hand. "Do not let anyone past this bulkhead door. If I fall, take the escape pod and head for the Azores. But don't open this hatch unless you hear my voice."
"Clara, you can't fight an entire strike team alone!" Julian groaned, stepping forward despite his pain.
"I didn't survive two years of starvation and exile in Singapore to let these vultures touch my child," I snarled, my teeth bared. "Watch the door."
I kicked open the hatch to the central corridor and stepped into the smoke.
The lower passageway was dark, illuminated only by flickering red hazard lights. Four armed contractors clad in black tactical gear and night-vision goggles moved silently down the companionway, their weapons raised. They were professionals—former special forces hired by the syndicate—but they were fighting for money. I was fighting for my son’s life.
I dropped to the metal grate just as their barrels swiveled toward me. A volley of armor-piercing rounds shredded the steel partition behind where my head had been a second earlier. Rolling forward, I swept my carbine across their shins, opening fire in a sustained, deafening burst.
The front two mercenaries collapsed with shattered limbs, howling in agony. Before the remaining two could readjust their aim, I was on my feet, closing the distance with savage fury. I drove my combat knife straight under the chin-guard of the third contractor, using his falling body as a human shield against the fourth’s shotgun blast. The pellets chewed into the dead man’s vest; I stepped out from behind him and emptied three rounds into the last attacker’s chest.
Silence returned to the corridor, broken only by the hiss of steam pipes and the sound of my ragged, furious breathing.
Then, a sudden vibration beneath my boots made the blood freeze in my veins.
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The boarding team hadn't just come to fight; they had brought shaped breaching charges to blow straight through the deck above—directly into the reinforced room where Leo was hiding.
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