Chapter 6 - Blood on the Catwalks
"You look older, Marco," Julian’s voice crackled over the intercom, dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Raising a daughter clearly takes a toll on a man's constitution. Though I suppose you won't have to worry about parenting much longer."
Marco raised his voice, his tone cool, authoritative, and utterly devoid of fear. "Give me the antidote, Julian. This war was between us. Sophia has nothing to do with the Vance family downfall."
Julian let out a bitter, raspy laugh that turned into a wet cough. "Nothing to do with it? She has everything to do with it! You took my territory, you killed my brothers, and you left me to rot in an underground sewage pipe for six months while surgeons pulled metal shrapnel out of my spine! You stole my life, Marco! So I stole your wife, I corrupted your home, and now I’m going to watch you watch your child fade away!"
"Kill them," Julian commanded into his radio.
The catwalks above erupted into gunfire. Dozens of hidden Vance mercenaries leaned over the railings, pouring automatic rifle fire down into the central bay. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off the concrete floor and iron vats.
"Take cover!" Cassian yelled, returning fire with his submachine gun, taking down two snipers on the second tier.
Marco didn't duck. He moved with cold, mechanical precision, firing three well-placed shots through a gap in the catwalk grating, dropping an enemy shooter before diving behind a heavy steel pillar.
"Cassian! The control room stairs!" Marco called out over the deafening roar of gunfire. "Cover me!"
Cassian tossed a pair of smoke grenades into the center of the hall, creating a dense white screen that blinded the shooters above. Under the cover of the smoke, Marco sprinted across the open bay, vaulting over a fallen iron pipe and mounting the metal spiral staircase leading up to Julian’s vantage point.
Vance mercenaries scrambled down the steps to intercept him, but Marco was an unstoppable force of nature. He cleared the first landing with two quick double-taps, sidestepped a knife thrust from a guard, grabbed the attacker by the throat, and hurled him over the railing to the concrete floor forty feet below.
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He reached the fourth-story door, kicked the lock open, and burst into the control room with his weapon raised.
The room was empty—except for a small silver briefcase resting on the central console next to a glowing countdown timer, and a computer monitor displaying a live video feed of the Benadetti estate's exterior gates.
