Chapter 9 - Blood on the Asphalt
The heavy 12-gauge slug hit Marco's lead tactical operator square in the chest, throwing the man backward six feet onto the asphalt.
"KILL HIM!" Marco shrieked, scrambling behind a steel support pillar, firing his silenced pistol wildly into the fog.
The storage terminal descended into absolute chaos.
The remaining four tactical operators opened fire with full automatic submachine guns, heavy lead tearing through the corrugated steel shutters of Row B, shattering light fixtures overhead in a rain of sparks and glass.
Dante didn't retreat. He moved through the fog like a phantom, racking the shotgun with rhythmic, lethal precision.
BOOM. Another operator dropped, spun around by a heavy slug.
BOOM. A second man went down near the corner of Row C, his weapon clattering across the wet pavement.
Elena didn't waste a second. The moment the shooting started, she threw her bound body over Sophia, rolling them both beneath the rusted undercarriage of a flatbed trailer parked across the aisle.
"Stay down, baby! Stay down!" Elena gasped, pressing Sophia's face into her chest, shielding her child's body with her own.
Above them, the deafening roar of gunfire continued.
Dante was hit. Elena saw a dark spray of blood fly from his left shoulder as a burst of automatic fire grazed him, but he didn't even slow down. He closed the distance like an enraged beast, dropping his empty shotgun, pulling a combat knife from his belt, and driving it through the throat of the last tactical guard.
The guard collapsed to the pavement, gasping his last breath.
Silence fell over the alleyway, save for the hum of the overhead halogen lights and the heavy, ragged gasps of a wounded man.
Dante stood in the center of the aisle, dripping blood onto the wet asphalt, his broad chest heaving.
Marco stepped out from behind Unit B-402.
He had no guards left. His grey cashmere coat was torn, his silver hair messy. He raised his pistol with both hands, aiming directly at Dante's head.
"It ends here, Dante," Marco panted, his hands shaking. "You're bleeding out. You can't reach me before I pull this trigger."
Dante looked at Marco. He didn't look at the gun. He wiped a mixture of soot and blood from his mouth with the back of his raw hand.
"You burned my house," Dante said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying rumble that made the hair on Elena's arms stand up. "You threatened my woman. You pointed a gun at her child."
Dante took a step forward.
Marco pulled the trigger.
CLICK.
The slide had locked back. Marco had emptied his magazine during the firefight.
Marco's eyes went wide with sheer, unadulterated horror.
Dante didn't run. He walked. Slowly. Unhurriedly.
Marco dropped the empty pistol, turning to run down the alley toward the gate.
Dante reached out, grabbed Marco by his silver hair, and slammed his face violently into the rusted steel shutter of Unit B-402.
CRACK.
Marco fell back onto the pavement, clutching his shattered nose, blood pouring over his manicured beard.
Dante stood over him, his heavy boot pressing down onto Marco's throat, shutting off his airway. Marco choked, his hands clawing helplessly at Dante's leather boot.
"Please..." Marco gasped out, his grey eyes wide with terror. "Dante... please... I was like a father to you..."
Dante looked down at the man who had betrayed his family, his blue eyes cold, empty, devoid of mercy.
"My father," Dante whispered, "died with his boots on."
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Dante shifted his weight, his boot snapping Marco's neck with a sharp, definitive CRACK.
The traitor went limp on the wet asphalt.
