Chapter 10 - The Steel and the Gray Dawn
The concrete floor of the lower garage smelled of cold oil and damp rubber. Outside the tall, reinforced windows, the predawn sky was the color of a wet slate shingle, bruised with purple along the eastern tree line. Three matte-black SUVs idled in a neat row against the loading bay, their heavy diesel engines vibrating with a low, rhythmic thrum that rattled the tool cabinets on the walls.
I stood near the open tailgate of the middle vehicle, my fingers curled into the stiff ballistic nylon of a heavy vest Vic had handed me three minutes ago. It was far too large, the shoulder plates riding up near my ears, and the ceramic plates inside felt like slabs of dead weight against my ribs.
Dante came out of the armory door carrying a short-barreled rifle, the dark fabric of his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders. His neck and arm tattoos seemed to absorb the weak fluorescent overheads. He checked the action of the weapon with a sharp, metallic snap, his dark eyes sweeping the garage until they landed on me. He slowed his stride, his boots clicking hard against the polished concrete.
"You're not getting in the car, Sadi," Dante said, his voice level and entirely devoid of debate. "Vic stays in the third vehicle. You go back upstairs to the secure suite, lock the deadbolt, and wait for my call."
I tightened my grip on the edge of the vest, my knuckles still tender where they had cracked against the wall hours ago. The memory of the phone call—*You have one hour, Sadi*—was a hot brand beneath my skin. I wasn't going back to a locked room to stare at a blank wall while men with guns went to fetch my brother.
"No," I said. My voice was lower than I intended, but it didn't shake. "I'm not doing that again."
Dante stopped a foot away. He didn't raise his voice, but the air between us tightened. "This isn't an errand. We are walking into a building where Vance's people have had hours to dig in. Bullets are going to fly through drywall. It's not a place for you."
"My brother is in that building because I tried to fix a mess I didn't understand," I answered, meeting his gaze directly. I didn't flinch, even when his jaw tightened and a muscle ticked near his mouth. "You interrogated that man downstairs. You got the address. But I am the reason Leo's name was on their list in the first place. I'm coming. If you leave me here, I will take my own car and follow you."
Vic, standing by the driver's side door of the lead SUV, cleared his throat and looked away toward the ceiling, clearly deciding this was a domestic dispute he preferred to ignore.
Dante stared at me for a long, heavy second. His gaze dropped to the oversized vest, then back to my face, searching for a bluff that wasn't there. The silence in the garage stretched until the only sound was the deep, mechanical rumble of the idling engines.
"If I give you a seat in the lead vehicle," Dante said quietly, his face hardening into something cold and absolute, "you do exactly what Vic tells you. You keep your head down, you don't touch the doors, and if things go sideways, you stay on the floorboards. If you disobey me once, I'll have Vic tie you to the steering wheel. Do you understand?"
"I understand," I said.
He reached out, his warm fingers brushing my knuckles as he adjusted the Velcro strap on my right shoulder to pull the heavy vest down into place. The touch was brief, almost clinical, but it steadied my breathing. He turned to Vic. "Put her in the passenger seat of the lead car. Keep a secondary radio on her channel."
"Got it, boss," Vic muttered, pulling open the heavy door of the first SUV. The interior glowed with the green light of dashboard instruments and encrypted radio displays.
I climbed up into the high seat, the leather cold beneath me, and pulled the door shut with a heavy thud. Vic slid in beside me, shifting the heavy truck into gear with a smooth pull of the column shifter. Behind us, the two other SUVs shifted in unison, their headlights cutting bright white beams through the rising diesel exhaust.
The heavy overhead garage doors rolled upward with a metallic screech, revealing the gray, misty expanse of the estate's private drive. Dante climbed into the second vehicle, his door slamming shut behind him.
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The convoy moved out in a tight, synchronized line, the tires crunching over the gravel driveway before smoothing out onto the empty asphalt of the county highway. The world outside was quiet, houses dark and still behind manicured hedges as we accelerated toward the river docks. I rested my hand on the cold dashboard, watching the dark highway stretch out ahead of us through the windshield, and felt the heavy weight of the miles ticking away toward the warehouse.
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