Chapter 37 - The Predator Ascends
On the rain-swept main deck, Preston Beaumont was crawling on his hands and knees, desperately wedging himself into a narrow gap between two stacked shipping containers to hide from Alejandro’s executioners. The suffocating arrogance of the high-society elite, the vicious pride that had fueled his reign of terror over Claire, had completely evaporated. He was nothing but a shivering, whimpering rat in a ruined prison uniform. He heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots approaching his hiding spot. "I have money... I have offshore accounts... don't shoot..." Preston babbled into the dark, still pathetically believing that his family's dirty wealth could buy his way out of hell.
Suddenly, the two mercenaries hunting him stopped dead in their tracks. A massive, terrifying silhouette emerged from the shadows of the container maze with impossible speed. Marcus Reed, soaked in freezing seawater, his steel-blue eyes burning with apocalyptic fury, didn't even draw a weapon. He grabbed the barrel of the first mercenary's rifle, violently twisting it upward while driving a devastating right cross into the man's face, shattering his tactical visor and jaw simultaneously. As the second mercenary scrambled to aim, Marcus pivoted, delivering a crushing roundhouse kick to the man's chest. The impact lifted the mercenary entirely off his feet, sending him flying over the ship's railing into the black, churning ocean below.
Preston watched the brutal, effortless neutralization from his hiding spot, violently clamping his hands over his mouth to muffle his own terrified sobs. Marcus stood still, his sharp eyes piercing the darkness. "Claire!" his deep voice boomed, carrying the desperate, raw emotion of a father. From the shadows of the next aisle, a small figure emerged. Claire, still gripping her bloodied combat knife, threw herself into Marcus's arms. He held her impossibly tight, his heart finally steadying in his chest, before his eyes fell upon the jagged red mark the taser prongs had left on her neck. His expression instantly darkened into something devoid of all humanity. Marcus gently pushed Claire behind him. He turned, his heavy boots echoing on the steel deck, and began a slow, deliberate march toward the cowering shadow of Preston Beaumont.
