Chapter 7 - The Counter-Strike
By midnight, the blood in the foyer had been scrubbed away, the shattered windows boarded up with heavy plywood, and Moretti’s network was operating at full tactical capacity.
We sat around the large mahogany dining table in the war room, illuminated by the harsh white glare of multiple laptops and tablet screens. Dante had a white bandage taped securely over his left shoulder, wearing a fresh black sweater. Across from us sat Marcus—Dante’s second-in-command, a massive man with a scarred jaw and steady hands—and Leo, our lead tech specialist.
“The four operatives who breached the gate carried burner comms linked to an encrypted relay server in downtown Chicago,” Leo explained, tapping keys on his keyboard. “We traced the relay back to a commercial shipping warehouse owned by Apex Global Logistics—a front company controlled directly by Damian Vale.”
I leaned over the table, staring at the schematics of the warehouse displayed on the central screen.
“Apex Global,” I murmured. “That’s where they store the physical paper archives that digital encryption can’t touch. If my father’s original compliance reports and the offshore asset transfers exist anywhere in hard copy, they’re in the sub-level vault of that building.”
Dante looked at me, his eyes dark and calculating. “You want to raid them.”
“Not just raid them,” I corrected, a cold, hard resolve settling deep into my chest. “We’re going to empty their accounts, copy their physical files, and send the entire package to the federal grand jury in New York before sunrise. We hit them where it hurts most: their money and their secrecy.”
Marcus whistled softly, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a suicide mission, boss. Apex Global is fortified like a federal reserve. National Guard couldn't take that building without heavy ordnance.”
“We aren't going in with guns blazing,” I said, pulling up a secondary schematic of the building’s utility grid. “We’re going in through the municipal water drainage tunnels that run directly beneath the warehouse floor. Victor Cain used those same tunnels to smuggle untraceable bearer bonds into the city two years ago. I know the security codes to the internal pump valves by heart.”
Dante stared at me for a long, silent moment. Then, a slow, predatory grin spread across his face.
“Remind me never to play poker against you again, Sophia,” he said softly.
“You already won me, remember?” I replied without missing a beat.
Dante’s smile softened into something warm, dangerous, and entirely captivating. “I didn't win you, Sophia. You played me into the exact position you needed to burn your enemies to the ground.”
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“Are we going to war or flirting?” Marcus groaned, standing up and grabbing his assault rifle. “Because I’ve got gear to clean.”
“Both, Marcus,” Dante said, standing up and pulling his dark tactical jacket over his shoulders. “Let’s go dismantle an empire.”
