Chapter 5 - The Butcher’s Warehouse
Cold sea mist drifted through the shattered skylights of an abandoned fish-packing plant on the southern edge of the docks. Elena shivered violently against the rusted iron chair, the heavy rope cutting deep into her wrists and swollen ankles.
In front of her, pacing back and forth on the salt-stained concrete floor, was Sofia. The glamorous silver dress was gone, replaced by a dark tactical trench coat and heavy leather boots. Her hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, and her face twisted with a mixture of hysterical panic and venomous hatred.
"You ruined everything, you pathetic stray," Sofia hissed, kneeling down in front of Elena and grabbing her chin with vicious force. "Mateo was supposed to take over without a mess! Julian was supposed to crash on the expressway last night, leaving you completely alone! You were supposed to lose that bastard parasite quietly!"
Elena spat blood onto the floor, glaring directly into Sofia’s eyes despite the dizziness threatening to pull her into unconsciousness. "Julian will find you. And when he does, God won't be able to protect you."
Sofia laughed, a shrill, manic sound that bounced off the steel beams. "Julian doesn't have an army. He's an executive in an expensive Italian suit. He thinks lawsuits and hostile takeovers win wars."
A door slammed open across the cavernous room. One of the masked mercenaries rushed toward Sofia, his assault rifle gripped tightly across his chest.
"We have movement outside," the man snapped in a heavy Eastern European accent. "Thermal scopes picked up two black SUVs cutting their lights near Pier 42. He didn't come alone."
Sofia’s smile widened, cold and psychotic. She drew a suppressed 9mm pistol from her coat and chambered a round with a sharp metallic clatter. She pointed the barrel straight between Elena’s eyes.
May you like
"Good," Sofia whispered. "Tell the men on the roof to open fire the moment the front gate breaches. We don't need a hostage exchange anymore. We just need to watch him bleed."
Before the mercenary could turn around to relay the order, the concrete beneath their feet trembled. A blinding flash engulfed the eastern wall as fifty pounds of commercial C4 detonated, blowing the heavy brickwork inward like shrapnel.
