Chapter 7 - A Bullet and a Blueprint
Before Moretti’s thumb could press down on the detonator, a sharp, deafening crack echoed through the subterranean cavern.
A puff of concrete dust exploded less than an inch from Moretti’s boot. He cursed loudly, stumbling backward and dropping his gaze as another round sparked against the iron railing beside him.
"Looking for me, Victor?"
Luca’s voice cut through the damp air like a razor. He was standing on the upper maintenance catway overlooking the slip, his Sig Sauer leveled with deadly, unshakeable precision. His white shirt was stained with a smear of gunpowder and dark oil, but his stance was steady as a rock.
Moretti scrambled behind a concrete pillar, clutching the detonator tightly in his hand while screaming curses into a tactical comms unit clipped to his collar. "Kill him! Drop him from the catway!"
Heavy footsteps thundered down the metal stairs behind the pillar as two of Moretti's enforcers rushed out from the shadows, their weapons raised.
"Elena, move!" Luca yelled.
I didn't hesitate. I threw my weight forward, slamming my hands against the rubber rims, launching my wheelchair off the open elevator platform straight toward the ramp of the waiting speedboat. The front casters hit the aluminum ramp with a jarring slam, the chair tilting dangerously over the dark water before my momentum carried me safely onto the padded deck of the hull.
Gunfire erupted behind me—a chaotic symphony of shattering glass, splintering wood, and roaring lead.
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From the catway, Luca dropped into a tactical crouch, firing two rapid, calculated shots that neutralized the enforcers charging toward the dock before they could adjust their aim to the boat.
Moretti, realizing his men had failed and his cover was disintegrating, pressed his thumb down hard on the detonator button.
