Chapter 13: The Breach
The interior of the warehouse was a cavernous wasteland of rusted steel beams, dangling industrial cables, and towering stacks of empty shipping crates that rose into the darkness like monoliths. In the center of the open floor, illuminated by a single glaring halogen work light dangling from a frayed cord, sat a reinforced modular office trailer. Through its wire-reinforced glass windows, I could see Julian slumped awkwardly in a metal folding chair, his hands bound behind his back with plastic zip-ties, his head hanging low and chest heaving with shallow, ragged breaths.
Two armed guards stood outside the office door, smoking cigarettes and murmuring low to each other, completely unaware of our approach behind the towering stacks of containers.
Dominic signaled with a sharp hand gesture: he would take the guard on the left; I was to slip around the right flank toward the exterior emergency exit of the trailer to secure Julian the second the shooting started. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, but my hands remained ice-cold and steady. I crept forward along the shadow of a massive steel girder, my boots sliding silently over the greasy concrete.
With a sudden, explosive crack, Dominic lunged from the darkness. His forearm caught the first guard across the throat, spinning him hard into the corrugated metal wall with a bone-crunching impact. The second guard whipped his rifle around, but Dominic was already inside his guard, driving his fist upward into the man's solar plexus before following up with a brutal sweep of his leg that sent the operative crashing into the dirt.
As the second guard hit the ground, a voice echoed from inside the trailer office, sharp and venomous. "What the hell is going on out there?"
The metal door of the office swung open, and a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped out into the dim light. It wasn't a corporate rival or a hired hitman. It was Marcus, Dominic's chief of security, holding a heavy-caliber handgun aimed straight at the doorway.
Dominic froze halfway across the open floor, his pistol leveled at his own security chief. "Marcus," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a terrifyingly calm register. "You sold us out to Vance for a seat on the board."
"It's just business, boss," Marcus sneered, his finger twitching nervously on the trigger. "You and Julian built an empire on blood and boardrooms. You got soft. Vance offered stability, and all I had to do was hand over the keys."
I didn't wait for Dominic to answer. Slipping through the rear window of the trailer that I had jimmied open with my penknife, I dropped silently onto the linoleum floor behind Marcus. Before the traitor could turn around, I whipped the heavy steel medical kit from my shoulder and smashed it directly down across the back of his skull. Marcus staggered forward with a cry of surprise, his gun discharging into the ceiling as Dominic closed the distance instantly, driving his fist into Marcus's jaw and sending the traitor crashing unconscious into a metal filing cabinet.
"Julian!" I dropped to my knees beside the chair, slicing through the plastic zip-ties with my trauma shears. Julian lifted his head, his face pale and clammy, gasping for air as his injured lung struggled for oxygen.
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"Maya..." he wheezed, his hand grabbing my sleeve. "The... the server in the basement..."
"Save your breath," I commanded, pressing my stethoscope to his chest while Dominic stood over us, scanning the shadows for more rats. "You're going to live to tell the whole story."
