Chapter 38
The breakthrough came at 2:00 AM on the third day of the siege.
Clara was standing over the digital map when the lead cyber-specialist burst into the room. "We found him, Boss. Thorne's encrypted satellite phone just pinged a cell tower off the coast of Lake Michigan. He's hiding in the old abandoned naval shipyard."
"He's waiting for a boat," Marco realized, stepping up beside Clara. "He's trying to flee to the Canadian border across the lake."
"He doesn't get to leave," Clara stated, her voice turning to ice. "Assemble the alpha team. We are hitting the shipyard in twenty minutes."
"Boss, you should stay here in the bunker," Marco advised gently. "It's going to be a bloodbath. We can handle it."
"I am not hiding while you finish my war, Marco," Clara said, strapping a tactical vest over her black shirt and checking the magazine of her pistol. "Thorne tried to destroy my family. I am going to look him in the eye when his empire falls. Let's move."
The convoy of armored SUVs tore through the desolate, rain-swept streets of the city, operating under absolute radio silence. The abandoned naval shipyard loomed in the darkness, a sprawling labyrinth of rusted drydocks, towering cranes, and dilapidated warehouses.
Clara sat in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, her heart pounding a steady, rhythmic cadence. She wasn't afraid. She was entirely consumed by the need for closure.
"Thermal imaging shows twenty hostiles guarding the primary warehouse," Marco reported over the comms. "Thorne's boat is idling at the pier. We have a five-minute window before they cast off."
"Hit them from all sides," Clara commanded. "No quarter."
The Vance tactical teams breached the shipyard gates simultaneously. Heavy machine-gun fire erupted instantly, lighting up the rainy night with blinding flashes of orange tracer rounds. Clara's SUV skidded to a halt near the main warehouse doors.
She stepped out into the chaotic firefight, moving with a terrifying, unnatural calm behind Marco and his shield bearers. The air was thick with smoke, cordite, and the screams of dying men.
"Push forward!" Marco roared, laying down suppressive fire with his assault rifle as they breached the warehouse.
Inside, Thorne's mercenaries were frantically trying to hold the line, but the Vance enforcers were highly trained and motivated by the sheer, terrifying ruthlessness of their new boss. The mercenaries fell one by one.
Clara moved through the carnage, her pistol raised, her eyes scanning the shadows. She saw him.
Alexander Thorne was sprinting toward the massive steel doors at the back of the warehouse that led out to the pier. He was clutching his silver briefcase, abandoning his men to save his own life.
"Thorne!" Clara screamed, breaking away from Marco's protective perimeter and sprinting after him.
Thorne looked back over his shoulder, his eyes wide with panic. He raised his pistol and fired wildly in her direction, but the shots went wide in his desperation.
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Clara didn't flinch. She stopped, raised her weapon with both hands, aimed perfectly, and fired a single shot.
The bullet struck Thorne in the back of the knee. He screamed in agony, collapsing onto the concrete floor just inches from the exit doors, the silver briefcase skittering away into the darkness.
