Chapter 25
The industrial graveyard of the Long Island shipyard erupted into an inferno of violence. The Dark Ring mercenaries were heavily fortified inside reinforced concrete dry-dock bunkers, armed with heavy machine guns, barricades, and grenade launchers. Tracers ripped through the rainy darkness, concrete dust and hot shrapnel tearing through the air.
"Left flank is pinned down! Heavy bunker at twelve o'clock!" a SEAL squad leader shouted over the deafening cacophony of incoming fire.
Ryan ducked behind an overturned industrial lathe, blood trickling down his jaw from a shrapnel graze. He checked his tactical timer: eight minutes remaining before the automated sequence reached critical mass. A heavy machine-gun nest in the central bunker held the only corridor leading to the underground server vault.
"Covering fire on that bunker slit!" Ryan roared, unhooking a satchel of breaching charges from his vest. He prepared to sprint across forty yards of open, muddy ground in a suicidal bid to breach the steel embrasure, fully aware that the crossfire would likely tear him apart. He owed his life to Emily; he was prepared to spend it to give her a chance to live.
Before Ryan could vault from behind his cover, the structural glass skylight of the main warehouse three hundred feet above detonated inward with a thunderous crack.
A lone figure descended through the raining glass shards on a high-speed repelling wire, dropping into the crossfire like an avenging specter. It was a movement so rapid and lethal it seemed physically impossible. Two suppressed shots cracked through the din. The machine-gun bunker fell silent instantly, both gunners dropped with pinpoint rounds through their viewports.
The figure hit the wet concrete, rolling effortlessly into the shadows. In a blur of motion, combat blades and suppressed fire neutralized four approaching mercenaries in less than six seconds.
The emergency halogen floodlights flickered under the gunfire, illuminating the porcelain skin, dark hair, and the narrow silver watch gleaming with lethal precision.
"Emily..." Ryan breathed, stunned.
She had sabotaged the freighter's engine room, left the vessel dead in the water for the naval fleet to secure, and boarded a supersonic extraction transport to ensure the mainland threat was extinguished.
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Emily did not look back, but her voice crackled over his encrypted earpiece: "Carter, stop staring at the scenery. The bunker hatch is breached. Cover my six."
Together, brother and sister moved through the smoke—the quiet professional from the shadows and the warrior of the fleet—tearing through the enemy’s final defenses.
