Chapter 10
The night air over the Navy Yard was thick with the smell of salt and diesel fuel. The bright, cinematic streetlights cast sharp, dramatic shadows across the towering shipping containers and the dilapidated brick facade of Victor Rossi’s import/export office. It was exactly 11:45 PM.
Selene Caruso stood in the shadows of a massive shipping crane, dressed in a sleek, tactical black trench coat, though the heavy gold signet ring still gleamed ominously on her finger. She watched the building with cold, predator’s eyes.
Surrounding the office, hidden in the darkness of the docks, were thirty of her most elite, heavily armed soldiers. They moved with silent, synchronized precision, executing a flawless perimeter lockdown. Chicago thought they had planted a spy; Selene was about to show them she commanded an army.
"Teams are in position, Boss," Marcus whispered through the encrypted earpiece, his voice calm and professional. "Thermal imaging shows four targets inside the main office. Rossi is likely one of them."
"Take them alive if possible," Selene commanded softly into her collar mic. "But prioritize the breach. If they raise a weapon, execute them."
"Copy that. Initiating breach on your mark."
Selene looked at her platinum wristwatch. The second hand ticked past the twelve.
"Mark," she whispered.
The silence of the docks was shattered by the simultaneous, explosive detonation of two breaching charges placed on the front and rear doors of the office. The heavy metal doors were blown completely off their hinges, crashing inward in a cloud of smoke and splintered wood.
Before the smoke could even begin to clear, Selene’s strike teams poured into the building. The staccato pop of suppressed gunfire echoed briefly into the night, followed by shouts of command and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the floor.
Selene did not wait for the all-clear. She walked calmly toward the smoking entrance, her polished leather shoes stepping effortlessly over the shattered glass and debris. The bright, harsh fluorescent lights inside the office illuminated the total, devastating efficiency of her men.
Three Chicago operatives lay on the floor, groaning from non-lethal gunshot wounds to their legs, their weapons kicked far out of reach. In the center of the room, Marcus had Victor Rossi pinned to his desk, a heavy combat knife pressed firmly against the man's throat.
Rossi, a balding, sweating man whose fair skin was flushed with terror, stared wide-eyed as Selene Caruso walked into his office. He had assumed she was a corporate figurehead, a woman who handled ledgers while the men handled the violence. The terrifying, deeply masculine aura of command she radiated completely shattered that illusion.
"Ms. Caruso," Rossi choked out, his American accent trembling against the blade. "This is a misunderstanding. We were just doing business."
"You tried to do business with my son," Selene stated, her voice a low, lethal hum that carried clearly across the ruined office. She stepped close, leaning over the desk so her face was inches from his. "That was not a misunderstanding, Victor. That was a declaration of war."
"Chicago will retaliate!" Rossi spat, trying to muster some bravado, though his eyes betrayed his absolute panic. "You can't just take us out! They will send a hundred men to your gates!"
"Let them send a thousand," Selene whispered, her dark eyes completely devoid of mercy. "I want you to call your bosses in Chicago, Victor. I want you to tell them exactly what happened here tonight. Tell them the Drake family failed. Tell them your operation is burned."
She leaned closer, the terrifying, movie-star beauty of her face forming a mask of pure, unadulterated vengeance.
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"And tell them," Selene promised softly, the words dripping with an apocalyptic certainty, "that if they ever look toward my city again, I will not just burn their businesses. I will bury them."
The war had officially begun, and Selene Caruso had just drawn the first, devastating line in the blood.
