Chapter 15 - The Ash of Morning
A high-caliber sniper round tore through Hayes’s shoulder, spinning the Admiral around as glass and ocean spray rained across the carpet. Marcus tackled Ava to the ground, shielding her body with his own as a second round punched into the mahogany desk.
""Sniper on the dry-dock crane!"" Miller yelled, dragging his men into defensive positions behind the executive credenzas. ""Return fire! Suppress that crane!""
Marcus peeked over the sill of the shattered window. Through the rain and muzzle smoke, he saw an armored black helicopter hovering low over the naval basin—Viktor Sterling’s private extraction team, cutting loose ends. Sterling had never intended to let Hayes survive to face a court-martial.
Marcus grabbed Miller’s carbine from the floor. ""Keep Ava covered!"" he ordered, sprinting out of the office toward the rooftop access stairs.
Marcus emerged onto the windswept roof of the headquarters building. The helicopter was turning, preparing to fire a rocket pod into the sixth-floor windows to obliterate all physical evidence of the terminal.
Marcus ran across the gravel-topped roof, steadying the carbine against the iron railing. He lined up the iron sights directly on the helicopter's exposed tail-rotor hub, calculating wind drift and rotor wash in a split second of cold instinct.
He fired three single, deliberate rounds.
The tail rotor shattered with a high-pitched scream of shearing metal. The helicopter violently yawed to the right, spinning out of control in the heavy gale. It careened into the abandoned steel gantry crane, erupting in a massive fireball that lit up the gray Norfolk dawn like an artificial sun.
The burning wreckage tumbled into the deep waters of the bay, hissed once, and vanished beneath the black surface.
Silence returned to the naval station, broken only by the sound of wailing sirens and the gentle patter of rain on Marcus’s torn uniform.
Marcus walked back down the concrete stairs, his weapon lowered. He re-entered the ruined office. Hayes was slumped on the carpet, alive but broken, clutching his bleeding shoulder as federal marshals and military police cuffed his wrists.
Ava stood by the shattered window, the cold sea wind blowing through her dark hair. Her face was battered, her body bruised, but her head was held high.
May you like
Marcus stopped beside her. He reached out and gently took her hand. Ava turned, leaning her forehead against his chest, her breath coming in slow, peaceful sighs.
The storm had broken. Across the horizon, the first rays of sunlight cut through the smoke, illuminating the harbor in cold, unyielding gold."
