Chapter 28
The firefight was a masterclass in tactical slaughter. Alexander fired with robotic, surgical precision. The sharp, deafening cracks of his suppressed rifle echoed through the cavernous space. He dropped the first three rogue mercenaries instantly with flawless shots before they could even register the intrusion.
The warehouse erupted into chaotic, heavy gunfire. Victor's men fired frantically from behind stacked wooden crates, but they were entirely unprepared for the sheer, overwhelming violence of a synchronized syndicate strike team.
"Push them toward the rear loading docks!" Alexander commanded, his voice slicing through the noise. "Box them in!"
He advanced relentlessly, an immovable object of sociopathic determination, completely ignoring the bullets sparking off the concrete pillars around him. He bypassed the main skirmish to locate the central cluster of thermal signatures.
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He reached a reinforced interior office. Inside, cowering behind an overturned metal desk, was Victor Hayes. The estranged cousin was desperately trying to reload a silver handgun. Alexander didn't fire. He kicked the shattered remnants of the door aside, stepping into the room. The harsh, flickering light of a broken incandescent bulb illuminated his sharply angular face and the extreme, terrifying calm in his dark eyes.
"Did you believe... you could profit from my daughter's terror?" Alexander asked, his deep, raspy voice echoing in the small office. The apex predator had finally cornered his prey.
