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CHAPTER 4: Storming the Docks

The docks were cloaked in a heavy, freezing fog. Warehouse 4 was a massive, rusted structure right on the water's edge. Outside, a dozen heavily armed men patrolled the perimeter.

Vincent Torino arrived in a convoy of black SUVs. He didn't believe in stealth when sending a message. He believed in overwhelming force.

"No survivors except the ones holding the keys," Vincent ordered over the comms. "Break them."

The SUVs breached the chain-link gates, tires screeching. Vincent's men poured out, unleashing a hail of suppressed gunfire. The rival gang was caught entirely off guard. The outer guards fell within seconds, completely outmatched by the discipline and firepower of the Torino family.

Vincent kicked the heavy iron doors of the warehouse open, a shotgun held tightly in his grip. The interior was vast, filled with shipping containers. In the center, a group of frightened women were huddled together inside a makeshift iron cage. Among them was a woman who looked exactly like Lily—same eyes, same fragile posture, but covered in bruises. Elena.

A burly man, the regional commander of the trafficking ring, grabbed Elena by the hair, pulling a Beretta and pressing it to her temple. "Back off! Or she dies first!"

Vincent didn't blink. He walked forward, his boots echoing against the concrete. "You took a mother from my territory. You threatened a child. And worst of all, you made me break a promise to a seven-year-old girl."

"I'll kill her!" the commander screamed, his hands shaking. He could see the death in Vincent's eyes.

"No, you won't," Vincent said calmly.

From the rafters above, a red laser dot appeared on the commander's forehead. A split second later, a sharp crack echoed through the warehouse. The commander dropped to the floor instantly, neutralized by Vincent's sniper.

Vincent walked over to the cage, blew the lock off with his shotgun, and opened the door. He looked at Elena, who was trembling, clutching her chest.

"Are you Elena Vance?" Vincent asked, his voice returning to its calm, deep baritone.

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"Yes... please don't hurt me," she sobbed.

Vincent reached into his pocket, pulled out the crumpled five-dollar bill, and showed it to her. "Your daughter hired me. Let's go home."

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