Chapter 13
The Delaware Water Gap was engulfed in a thick, suffocating morning fog. The three Chicago freight trucks rumbled blindly through the winding mountain pass, their heavy tires hissing against the slick, rain-soaked asphalt. Inside the lead cabin, Marcus Thorne sat with a suppressed automatic rifle resting on his lap. He was a volatile, arrogant man who had built his reputation on brutality, entirely convinced that the legendary Dominic Valerio was a relic of a bygone era.
He was wrong.
High above the highway, hidden entirely by the dense pine forest and the heavy mist, Elias lay prone on a ridge. He exhaled slowly, watching the lead truck drift into his crosshairs. He didn't aim for the driver. He aimed for the massive front steering tire.
Crack.
The suppressed high-caliber round tore through the heavy rubber. The lead truck violently violently to the right, the rim grinding a shower of golden sparks against the pavement before the massive vehicle jackknifed, blocking both lanes of the highway.
Before Thorne could even shout a command into his radio, explosive charges detonated in the treeline behind the third truck. Two massive, century-old pine trees groaned and collapsed across the asphalt, completely sealing the convoy inside the narrow mountain gorge.
Thorne kicked open the passenger door of the jackknifed lead truck, raising his rifle. "Ambush! Out of the trucks! Form a perimeter!"
A dozen Chicago operatives poured out of the rear cargo bays, heavily armed and shouting aggressively. But there was no one to shoot at. The highway was dead silent, save for the hiss of the ruptured tires and the dripping of the rain. The Valerio men did not announce their presence; they operated like phantoms.
From the fog, a synchronized volley of suppressed sniper fire rained down from the ridges. The Chicago operatives dropped one by one, their tactical armor entirely useless against the armor-piercing rounds plunging from elevated positions. Panic seized the surviving men. They fired blindly into the trees, shattering bark and branches, but hitting nothing but shadows.
Elias descended the ridge with his elite ground team, moving with terrifying, silent precision. They swept through the convoy, neutralizing the remaining threats with clinical efficiency. Thorne, bleeding from a grazing shot to his shoulder, scrambled beneath the chassis of the middle truck, his bravado entirely shattered.
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Suddenly, a heavy, combat-booted foot kicked Thorne's rifle away. Elias grabbed the Chicago enforcer by the collar of his tactical vest and dragged him out from under the truck, slamming him hard against the wet asphalt.
"Is this the best Chicago has to offer?" Elias asked coldly, pressing the barrel of his sidearm to Thorne's temple. "Dominic Valerio sends his regards."
