Chapter 5 - The Harbor Shootout
The mercenaries stood perfectly still, their laser sights painting bright red dots across my jacket.
I froze in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat as the helicopter blades spun faster.
Marcus suddenly slammed his armored vehicle into the side of the shipping container, crushing the metal doors.
The impact knocked two of the mercenaries to the ground, giving us a vital window of opportunity.
Marcus leaned out of the driver's side window and laid down a heavy blanket of suppressing fire with his pistol.
He screamed at me to get into the passenger seat before they recovered their footing.
I dove through the open door, ignoring the sharp pain radiating up my scraped knees.
Marcus threw the vehicle into reverse, dodging a hail of bullets that shattered our reinforced windshield.
We watched in absolute despair as the cargo helicopter slowly lifted off the ground and vanished into the foggy night sky.
Julian had successfully escaped, taking my precious daughter and all of my money with him.
I broke down into violent sobs, burying my face in my hands as the reality of my failure crushed me.
Marcus drove us to a secure underground parking garage on the outskirts of the city.
He handed me a bottle of water and told me that crying wouldn't bring Maya back.
He pulled out his laptop again, connecting to a satellite network to track the helicopter's flight path.
He explained that a helicopter of that size couldn't cross the ocean without refueling.
The radar showed the aircraft heading directly toward a private compound located in a remote mountain range.
Marcus recognized the coordinates immediately, his face draining of all color.
He told me the compound belonged to Victor Volkov, a notorious underground broker who specialized in illegal adoptions for wealthy oligarchs.
Julian wasn't just running away; he was planning to sell our daughter on the black market to finance his new life.
My sadness instantly vaporized, replaced by a cold, murderous rage.
I asked Marcus what kind of weapons he had stored in the trunk of his vehicle.
He smiled grimly, popping the trunk to reveal a massive arsenal of high-grade tactical gear.
We spent the next hour strapping on bulletproof vests and loading spare magazines.
As we prepared to leave the garage, my burner phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming text message.
It was a video file from my sister, Chloe.
May you like
I opened it, expecting another apology, but instead saw Chloe tied to a chair with a bruised face.
A masked man standing behind her looked directly into the camera and promised to kill her if we didn't surrender the encrypted hard drive immediately.
