Chapter 12 - Boarding the Leviathan
The yacht’s alarm klaxons wailed in sync with the emergency red lighting. Victor drew a chrome-plated revolver from his inner jacket pocket, his knuckles white with tension.
"Kill anyone who enters this deck!" Victor screamed at his remaining mercenaries. "Do you hear me? Shoot to kill!"
Before the guards could position themselves at the salon doors, flashbang grenades shattered the skylight above. Blinding white light and concussive sound exploded through the grand salon, dropping the mercenaries to the floor, disoriented and screaming, their weapons clattering away.
Through the smoke and shattered glass, tactical operatives in black gear rappelled down, swiftly disarming and restraining the guards within seconds.
Then, walking through the main salon doors with unhurried, terrifying elegance, came Elena.
She wore a dark tactical trench coat, her gaze sweeping across the ruined grandeur of the yacht until it landed on the three generations of Sterlings cowering against the bar.
Richard fell to his knees, his hands raised in surrender. "Elena! Please! Don't shoot! I was forced into this! Father threatened to cut me off if I didn't comply!"
"You always have an excuse, Richard," Elena said, her voice dripping with absolute contempt. "First your mother made you do it, then your father. You never had the courage to be a man, let alone a father."
Beatrice shrank behind the bar, trembling uncontrollably as she looked at Elena’s eyes. For the first time in her life, Beatrice saw no trace of the gentle woman who used to pour her tea at family lunches. She saw the executioner of her legacy.
"Elena... please," Beatrice whimpered, tears streaming freely down her wrinkled face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I did to Lily. It was a mistake... I was drunk, I wasn't thinking..."
"A mistake?" Elena stepped closer, her heels clicking rhythmically on the glass-strewn floor. "You poured ice water on my six-year-old child to show the world that she was trash. You wanted her to feel small. You wanted to break her spirit so she would grow up bowing to you."
Elena stopped three feet from Victor, who still held his revolver, his hand shaking violently as he aimed it at her chest.
"Put it down, Victor," Elena commanded softly. "Before I decide not to let you live long enough to face trial."
"You think you've won?" Victor sneered, his finger tightening on the trigger. "If I go down, you go with me! You destroyed my family! I built this city!"
"You built a house of cards on blood and extortion," Elena replied, without flinching.
A sharp red laser dot appeared directly on Victor’s forehead from the broken skylight above. Marcus stood perched above, his sniper rifle locked onto the patriarch's skull.
"Drop it," Elena whispered.
May you like
Victor looked up at the red dot, his breath rattling in his throat. Slowly, inexorably, the revolver slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the teak deck.
Elena kicked the gun aside and raised her radio. "Federal Maritime Task Force, this is Director Vance. The targets are secured. Board the vessel."
