Chapter 6 - Blood on the Asphalt
Ashford didn't last ten seconds. Between agonizing screams, he gasped out a frequency code and a vehicle designation: Black convoy, route 9, heading for Pier 44.
Julian tossed the broken senator into the walk-in freezer, slammed the heavy latch shut, and wedged a steel bar across the handle. He sprinted out into the rainy midnight air of the estate’s loading dock.
Marcus was already waiting, standing beside a reinforced, matte-black SUV, his assault rifle slung over his shoulder, a bleeding gash across his temple. "Estate is cleared, boss, but we lost four men. Where’s Lily?"
"They took her," Julian said, his voice flat, terrifying in its absolute lack of human warmth. "Route 9. Pier 44. Get in."
Marcus gunned the high-output V8 engine. The vehicle surged through the ornate wrought-iron gates of the Vance estate, tearing onto the winding, rain-slicked mountain highway that led down toward the city’s coastal industrial district.
Wiping the blood from his forearm with a torn strip of his dress shirt, Julian slotted a fresh magazine into his sidearm. He picked up his secure satellite radio, patching directly into his syndicate's dormant network.
"Activate the Iron Protocol," Julian spoke into the microphone.
Across the continent, dozens of encrypted terminals lit up. Safehouses, mercenary companies, and shadowy intelligence brokers who had served the Vance family for generations were jolted awake by the single phrase.
"Sir," the encrypted receiver responded. "The Iron Protocol is a declaration of total war against the Ashford Syndicate. It will disrupt every shipping lane and bank in Europe."
"I don't care," Julian replied, looking out the rain-streaked window as lightning ripped across the black sky. "Tell them anyone who touches my daughter will not live to see dawn."
May you like
Marcus checked the rearview mirror. "Boss, we've got company."
Two black sedans without headlights crested the hill behind them at breakneck speed, their front grilles closing the distance.
