Page 55 of Rebel

Chapter Thirteen

Rebel

The industrial park loomed ahead like a graveyard of concrete and steel.Moonlight caught on broken windows, casting jagged shadows across cracked pavement.I led our flank on my bike, the engine’s rumble beneath me vibrating up through my bones.Ahead, Dmitri’s transport rolled silent and dark, no headlights to announce our approach.I checked my watch -- the synchronized timepiece Alexei had given me.Two minutes to zero hour.My grip tightened on the handlebars.Tonight, the Morettis would learn what happens when you piss off both the Devil’s Boneyard and the Bratva.

Alexei rode beside me, his massive frame somehow balanced perfectly on a club bike we’d provided.Behind us, four more riders -- two Russians, two of ours -- formed a tight V formation.The warehouse district sprawled around us, abandoned factories and storage facilities creating a maze of blind spots and choke points.Perfect for an ambush.From either side.

I tapped the comm unit at my wrist.“Team Two in position,” I reported, voice low despite the privacy of our channel.

“Team One ready,” came Havoc’s clipped response.

“Team Three in position,” Jackal confirmed.

A pause, then: “Team Four moving in sixty seconds.”Charming’s voice, steady as always.“Commence on my mark.”

I signaled to Alexei, who nodded once.The Russians’ military precision was unnerving but reassuring in equal measure.These men didn’t fuck around with their operations, and tonight, that discipline would work in our favor.

The warehouse that served as the Morettis’ processing center stood three stories tall, a hulking shadow against the night sky.Two guards patrolled the perimeter -- sloppy, predictable patterns.One smoked, the cherry of his cigarette a beacon in the darkness.Amateur hour.

“Northeast corner has a loading dock,” I murmured to Alexei.“Secondary entrance through the office wing on the west side.”

He assessed the building with cold efficiency.“How many inside?”

“Intel says fifteen to twenty.Mostly muscle, two lieutenants.”

Alexei nodded, then spoke in Russian to his men.I didn’t need to understand the words to get their meaning.They were dividing responsibilities, assigning kill zones.

I spotted movement at the main entrance -- a third guard emerging to talk with one of the patrolling men.A brief exchange, then laughter.They had no idea what was coming.

My comm unit buzzed.“All teams.”Charming’s voice was steel.“Execute.”

Everything happened at once.The transport truck surged forward, smashing through the chain-link fence surrounding the facility.The guards spun, reaching for weapons, but they were already too late.Silenced shots dropped them before they could raise the alarm.

I revved my engine, leading our flank around to the loading dock as planned.Alexei and two others peeled off toward the office entrance.Two stayed with me.We abandoned the bikes fifty yards out, continuing on foot.The weight of my AR-15 felt good in my hands -- familiar, an extension of myself.

“Dock doors are down,” I whispered, scanning the area.“Control panel there.”I pointed to a box mounted beside the large metal door.

One of the Russians -- Ivan, I thought -- moved forward, attaching a small device to the panel.He pressed a sequence of buttons, and the box sparked.The dock door began to rise, grinding upward with a mechanical groan that seemed deafening in the night air.

“Move,” I ordered, crouching low as I approached the widening gap.I had maybe three seconds before someone inside noticed the door’s movement.

Two… the gap reached knee height.

Three… waist height now.

I dropped to my stomach and rolled under, coming up with my AR-15 raised and scanning.The loading area was dimly lit, pallets of packaged product stacked in precise rows.Two men stood near a forklift, heads turning toward the rising door, expressions shifting from confusion to alarm.

I squeezed the trigger twice.Two bodies dropped.Clean.

“Clear,” I called softly as my teammates rolled in behind me.

From somewhere deeper in the warehouse came the muffledpopof silenced gunfire.Alexei’s team making entry.Good.

We moved forward in a practiced formation, covering each other’s blind spots.The processing area opened up ahead -- a vast space with assembly tables where workers would normally cut and package product.Tonight, it was staffed by a skeleton crew of armed men, their attention now focused on the commotion at the far end where Alexei had entered.

“Six targets,” the Russian beside me counted.“High ground at the observation platform.”

I nodded, spotting a seventh man on the metal walkway overlooking the floor.“I’ll take the high man.You sweep left, your partner right.”

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