Chapter 5 - The Price of Treachery
Two massive, unmarked black helicopters descended from the low-hanging clouds, their searchlights blinding the men on the pier.
From the sides of the aircraft, heavily armed tactical teams in black combat gear rappelled down, their laser sights painting red dots on the foreheads of Marcone’s men. At the same time, three more Costa SUVs smashed through the wooden barriers at the entrance of the pier, blocking any escape.
Within seconds, the tables were completely turned. Marcone’s men, realizing they were outgunned and surrounded by elite mercenaries, slowly began to lower their weapons.
"Drop them!" Elias Mercer roared, leading the charge with his rifle raised. "Hands behind your heads! Now!"
Richard Marcone’s face went from smug confidence to absolute, pale terror. He looked at Gabriel, his hands shaking as he raised them. "Costa... you’re starting a war. The commission will never allow this."
"The commission is dead, Richard," Gabriel said, stepping closer until his boots were inches from Marcone’s. "I bought the commission last month. You are the only one who didn't get the memo."
He turned to Dominic Vance, who was shaking so hard he looked as if he might faint. Gabriel grabbed the young man by his collar, dragging him forward.
"Where is Clara?" Gabriel asked, his voice low and deadly.
"She... she’s at the warehouse on 4th Street," Dominic stammered. "In the basement. I swear, she’s fine! They haven't touched her!"
Gabriel looked at Norah. "Take Marcus and a team. Go get your sister."
"And you?" Norah asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.
"I have some garbage to clean up," Gabriel said, his eyes shifting back to Marcone. "Go, Norah. She needs you."
Norah didn't hesitate. She ran back to the lead SUV, Marcus and four armed guards following her. As the vehicle sped away, she looked through the rear window, seeing Gabriel standing under the pouring rain, a towering, dark figure of absolute power.
At the warehouse on 4th Street, the rescue was swift.
Marcus and his team breached the doors with military precision, neutralising the two guards inside before they could even draw their weapons. Norah rushed down the concrete stairs into the damp, dark basement.
"Clara!" she screamed.
"Norah?" a weak voice called out.
In the corner of the room, tied to a wooden chair but otherwise unharmed, was Clara. Her blonde hair was messy, and her pregnant belly was prominent beneath her oversized sweater, but her eyes were bright with relief as she saw her sister.
Norah ran forward, falling to her knees and tearing the ropes away. "Oh god, Clara. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry."
The two sisters clung to each other, crying in the dusty basement.
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"They... they said they were going to kill us, Norah," Clara sobbed. "How did you find me?"
"I had help," Norah whispered, looking up at Marcus, who stood near the stairs, his head turned politely to give them privacy. "From a man I thought was a monster."
