Chapter 8 - The Price of Power
My finger rested lightly on the trigger of my rifle. Every tactical instinct screamed at me to wait for an opening, but looking into my son's terrified eyes pushed reason aside.
Slowly, deliberately, I lowered my weapon and let it drop onto the wet concrete.
Falcone grinned triumphantly, his thumb pulling back the hammer of his revolver. "Smart boy. Now, let's finish this."
"Now, Marcus!" I shouted into my comm-link.
At that exact microsecond, Marcus and our sniper team—positioned atop the adjacent gantry cranes—opened fire. Twin suppressor cracks sliced through the storm. Falcone’s two guards dropped instantly, their bodies slumping lifelessly against the metal railing.
Falcone cursed loudly, swinging his gun toward Lucas, but before he could pull the trigger, I lunged forward with explosive speed, grabbing a heavy steel ladder bolted to the gantry support columns.
Adrenaline surged through my veins as I scrambled up the vertical ladder like a madman, ignoring the burning pain in my shoulder where shrapnel from the bunker still lingered.
"Kill him! Kill him!" Falcone shrieked to reinforcements rushing out from the ship's control deck.
Bullets pinged off the metal scaffolding around me, tearing through my coat and cutting deep into my left forearm. Warm blood gushed down my sleeve, but I didn't stop. I hauled myself over the top railing of the gantry bridge, tackling Falcone just as he raised his gun to fire at Lucas again.
The revolver flew from Falcone's hand, clattering across the wet steel grating and plunging into the dark, churning water far below.
"You're finished, Falcone," I snarled, pinning the old man to the ground with my boot on his chest, raining brutal, unyielding punches down onto his face until he lost consciousness.
I turned around frantically and dropped to my knees beside Lucas, tearing the zip-ties from his wrists and ankles with shaking hands.
"Dad!" Lucas sobbed, throwing his arms around my neck and burying his face in my shoulder.
"I've got you, buddy. I've got you. You're safe now," I choked out, tears finally breaking free, mixing with the heavy rain on my face.
Suddenly, a terrifying mechanical groan echoed across the deck.
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We looked over. In the chaos, Falcone’s dying second-in-command had slammed the emergency override switch on the crane control panel. A heavy, automated industrial cargo container suspended directly above us swung violently on its steel cables.
With a deafening snap, the primary cable sheared in half.
