Chapter 9 - The Reckoning in the Mist
Smoke, dust, and pulverized concrete filled the subterranean vault as four tactical breachers dressed in dark European body armor stepped through the smoking doorway, their suppressed rifles raised.
Leading them was Lord Sterling himself—a sharp-faced, sixty-year-old European crime lord wearing a grey tailored wool coat, holding an ivory-handled pistol.
"Drop your weapon, Volkov," Lord Sterling commanded smoothly, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.
Dmitri raised his sidearm, but two breachers fired precise, non-lethal rounds that struck Dmitri’s shoulder and chest armor, sending him crashing onto the concrete floor.
Alina gasped in horror, standing up from the cot and throwing her body over four-year-old Sophie to shield her from the intruders.
Lord Sterling walked slowly into the center of the vault, his polished leather shoes clicking against the concrete floor. He looked down at Alina and the trembling child beneath her with cold, arrogant indifference.
"Alina Reva," Sterling sneered softly. "Or should I say, Mrs. Nikolai Petrov. You ran halfway across the world to hide in Chicago, but Nikolai's bloodline belongs to the European Council."
"She belongs to her mother!" Alina shouted, her fair face flushed with terrifying, maternal rage as she stood her ground against the armed men. "You will never take my daughter!"
Sterling raised his ivory-handled pistol, aiming it directly at Alina's chest. "A tragic loss. But the council only requires the child's genetic sample to claim the global trust."
Sterling’s finger tightened on the trigger.
BOOM!
The concrete wall behind Sterling exploded inward as a heavy armored tactical vehicle rammed straight through the granite masonry of the vault!
Debris and dust rained down as Alexei Petrov stepped out from the top hatch of the armored vehicle like a vengeful titan.
He fired six controlled shots from a heavy tactical rifle in three seconds. All four European breachers collapsed to the floor before they could even adjust their sight lines.
Lord Sterling spun around in sheer, unadulterated shock, dropping his ivory pistol as Alexei leapt down from the vehicle, landing smoothly on the concrete floor between Sterling and Alina.
Alexei closed the distance in a fraction of a second, grabbing Sterling by his throat with his broad, tattooed hand, and lifted the sixty-year-old crime lord two feet off the floor, slamming him against the steel filing cabinet.
Sterling choked, his eyes bulging with naked terror as he clawed at Alexei's iron grip. "Petrov... wait! The international council... they authorized this!"
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"Tell the council," Alexei whispered, his deep voice cold as liquid nitrogen, "that Chicago is closed."
With a single fluid motion, Alexei delivered a devastating strike that rendered Sterling unconscious, tossing him onto the floor like a sack of stones.
