Chapter 7 - The Interception in the Dark
The red emergency strobes painted the concrete garage in sweeping, rhythmic arcs of bleeding crimson.
Sylvio shoved Marina backward behind a thick concrete support pillar, his pistol raised and tracking instantly toward the two figures standing by the Lincoln.
"Drop your weapons!" one of the tactical enforcers barked, his voice distorted through a heavy gas mask as he swung the barrel of a suppressed submachine gun toward Sylvio. "Hands on your head, old man. The girl stays."
"You chose the wrong basement, boys," Sylvio snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger with cold, absolute precision.
Before the enforcer could pull his trigger, Sylvio fired twice. The silenced muzzle flashes flared like twin stars in the dark. The first mercenary staggered backward, hitting the side panel of the Lincoln with a heavy thud before sliding down to the asphalt.
The second enforcer ducked behind a stack of industrial crates, returning fire with a rapid, tearing burst that chewed up the concrete pillar inches from Marina’s head. Stone dust and sharp fragments sprayed across her face. She clamped her hand over Noah’s mouth to muffle a cry, tears of sheer terror blurring her vision.
"Sylvio!" she screamed over the deafening chatter of the submachine gun.
"Get in the car!" Sylvio shouted back, firing another controlled pair to pin the second gunman behind the crates. "Do it now, Marina!"
Marina didn't hesitate. Clutching Noah against her chest, she lunged out from behind the pillar, sprinting the final ten yards across the open garage floor toward the driver’s side of the Lincoln. The door was unlocked—Adrien always left his vehicles ready for immediate extraction.
She yanked the heavy armored door open, threw herself into the driver’s seat, and secured Noah in the crook of her arm while her foot frantically searched for the brake pedal.
From behind the crates, the surviving enforcer broke cover, pivoting his weapon directly toward the driver’s window where Marina sat exposed.
A deafening crack echoed through the garage—not from Sylvio’s gun.
A single, high-caliber round tore through the gloom from the upper catwalks above the service bays. It hit the enforcer squarely in the shoulder armor, spinning him hard against the concrete floor and knocking his weapon out of reach.
Sylvio wasted no time, rushing forward to kick the fallen enforcer’s gun away before dragging the man's unconscious partner out of the way. He yanked the rear passenger door of the Lincoln open and dove inside, slamming it shut.
"Drive!" Sylvio yelled over the roar of the idling engine. "Hit the ignition, Marina! Hit it!"
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Marina slammed her foot on the starter button. The heavy-duty V8 engine roared to life with a ferocious, subterranean growl. She threw the shifter into drive, stamped her foot on the gas pedal, and the bulletproof sedan rocketed forward, smashing straight through the secondary exit security gate with a screech of bending steel and shattering glass.
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