Chapter 6 - The Meatpacking Plant
The snowstorm had turned into a full-blown whiteout across the industrial district of Cicero.
Three heavy black SUVs hurtled through the deserted streets, their tires spinning over the ice, stopping in an alleyway behind an abandoned meatpacking plant owned by a Moretti front company.
Inside the lead vehicle, Dominick adjusted his heavy tactical vest. Beside him, Elena sat wearing a body armor vest three sizes too big for her, her fingers clamped around the grip of the revolver in her lap.
"The thermal cameras show six armed guards on the ground floor," Frank reported from the front seat, checking his tablet. "Two more on the upper catwalk. Sal Moretti is inside the main office."
"And the baby?" Elena asked, her voice tight and desperate.
Frank pointed at a small heat signature flickering near the center of the office building. "She’s alive. She’s in a basket on the desk."
Elena let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the window.
"Here’s the plan," Dominick said, checking his weapon. "Frank’s team breaches the north loading dock to draw their main fire. I take the south fire escape with Elena. We go straight for the office."
"Dominick, taking her inside is insane," Frank argued.
"She knows what the baby sounds like," Dominick replied coldly. "In a dark building filled with gunfire, a mother’s instinct is faster than your thermal sensors. Move out."
Thirty seconds later, a deafening explosion rocked the north side of the meatpacking plant as Frank’s team detonated a breaching charge against the steel loading doors. Automatic gunfire immediately erupted, echoing through the night air like crackers.
"Now," Dominick barked.
He kicked his door open, grabbing Elena by the hand and sprinting through the blinding snow toward the south service entrance.
Dominick raised his silenced pistol, firing three rapid shots into the lock of the metal door. The lock shattered, and he kicked the door open, pulling Elena inside into the pitch-black, freezing interior of the abandoned factory.
The air smelled of rust, old blood, and damp concrete. Above them, the sound of heavy gunfire and shouting echoed from the far side of the building.
"This way," Dominick whispered, pulling her toward a set of metal stairs leading up to the catwalks.
Suddenly, a heavy shadow stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.
"Blackwell!" a voice barked.
A man stepped into the dim light, raising a shotgun directly at Dominick's chest.
Before the shooter could pull the trigger, Elena didn't think—she reacted. She raised her revolver with both hands and pulled the trigger.
The deafening report of the unsuppressed .38 revolver shattered the quiet hallway. The bullet caught the gunman in the shoulder, knocking him backward off his feet, his shotgun firing harmlessly into the concrete ceiling.
Dominick instantly stepped forward, firing one precise shot to neutralize the guard.
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He turned to look at Elena, who was standing frozen, smoke curling from the barrel of her smoking gun, her arms shaking violently.
"Good shot," Dominick said quietly, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "Come on."
