Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Navy Yard
The rain began to fall in heavy, blinding sheets as the Maybach tore down the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
Inside the rear cabin, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Damian had pulled a matte-black SIG Sauer 9mm pistol from a hidden compartment beneath the armrest, efficiently checking the magazine before sliding it into his shoulder holster.
Sienna sat beside him, her hands trembling as she watched the rain drop down the blacked-out window.
"You don't have to come inside," Damian said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Silas and the tactical team will secure the perimeter. You stay in the car with the driver."
"No," Sienna said, turning to face him. Her hazel eyes were fierce, burning through the fear that had gripped her all afternoon. "Leo is my brother. If Viktor's people lied to you at the Plaza—if they were holding him all along—I need to see him."
Damian studied her face for a long moment. He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the line of her cheekbone.
"You have remarkable courage, Sienna," he said softly. "Or remarkable stupidity. In my world, those two things look very similar."
"My father taught me that family is the only thing worth fighting for," she replied. "Even when they fail you."
Damian’s dark eyes softened slightly. "A sentiment I can respect."
The car pulled up to a deserted stretch of the Brooklyn Navy Yard, stopping outside a massive, rusting steel warehouse overlooking the dark waters of the East River. Three other black SUVs belonging to Damian’s private security detail were already parked in the shadows, their headlights off.
Silas approached the window, tapping twice. Damian rolled it down.
"We have four guards at the front entrance, two on the roof," Silas reported, rain dripping from his tactical coat. "They aren't hiding. It looks like a setup, boss. Viktor paid off the Commission at the Plaza, but his brother Marko is running a rogue operation down here to draw you out."
Damian slid his coat on over his holster. "Marko was always the dumber of the two. Does he have the boy?"
"We confirmed eyes on Leo," Silas said. "He's tied to a chair in the central office upstairs. He's beaten up, but alive."
Sienna gasped, clutching Damian’s arm. "Please..."
Damian looked down at her small hand gripping his suit sleeve. He covered her hand with his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"He lives," Damian said. "Silas, take the back entry. Flashbangs on my mark. No survivors except Marko. I want him alive to explain this breach to Viktor."
"Understood," Silas said, disappearing into the storm.
Damian turned to Sienna. "Stay in the vehicle. The doors are bulletproof glass and reinforced steel. Do not open them for anyone except me or Silas."
"Damian, be careful," she blurted out before she could stop herself.
Damian paused, his hand on the door handle. He looked back at her with a faint, enigmatic smile.
"They are in my city, Sienna," he said simply. "They are the ones who should be careful."
He stepped out into the pouring rain, closing the heavy door behind him.
Inside the quiet cabin, Sienna watched through the rain-streaked window as Damian merged into the darkness alongside six of his heavily armed operatives.
For ten agonizing minutes, there was only the sound of rain beating against the roof of the Maybach.
Then, suddenly, the dark warehouse erupted into violence.
The bright flash of stun grenades illuminated the broken windows of the second floor, followed by the rapid, rhythmic chatter of suppressed automatic gunfire. Shouts and shattered glass echoed across the deserted yard.
Sienna leaned forward, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She gripped the leather edge of the front seat, her eyes glued to the dark entrance of the building.
Two minutes later, a loud bang rattled the side of the Maybach.
Sienna jumped back.
A figure emerged from the shadows near the driver's side window. It wasn't Damian. It wasn't Silas.
It was a large man in a soaked leather jacket, his face covered in blood, holding a heavy iron crowbar. He smashed the crowbar against the side mirror, shattering the housing, then pointed a heavy revolver directly through the side window at the driver.
Before the driver could draw his weapon, another man stepped up to the front windshield, spraying a hail of bullets directly into the engine block and front glass. The heavy bulletproof glass spiderwebbed with white cracks, blinding the driver’s view.
The door handle on Sienna's side jiggled violently.
"Open the door, bitch!" a voice roared through the heavy steel frame.
Sienna backed away toward the far side of the seat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The car was sealed, but they were clearing the guards outside.
Suddenly, a loud THUD echoed from the roof of the Maybach.
The man at her door turned around—just as a dark shadow dropped down from the top of the SUV with terrifying speed.
It was Damian.
He moved like a phantom through the rain. Before the man with the crowbar could raise his weapon, Damian caught his wrist, twisting it inward until the bone snapped with a loud crack. He drove a hard elbow into the man’s sternum, sending him flying backward into the mud, then pulled his SIG Sauer and fired two precise shots into the second attacker near the hood.
The remaining two gunmen tried to turn, but Silas emerged from the darkness behind them, neutralizing them both in a matter of seconds.
The rain continued to fall, washing the blood from the hood of the black car.
Damian stood in the center of the yard, his suit drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, holding his smoking pistol at his side. He walked over to the rear door of the Maybach, tapped the key code into the handle, and pulled it open.
Sienna didn't think. She didn't hesitate.
She threw herself out of the seat and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into the wet wool of his dark suit.
May you like
Damian froze for a fraction of a second, shocked by the sudden display of raw emotion. Then, slowly, his arms folded around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, shielding her from the cold downpour.
"I told you," Damian murmured against her wet hair, his voice steady and warm despite the carnage around them. "No one touches what belongs to me."
