Chapter 4 - The Wrath of the Mercer Syndicate**
The night air erupted with the deafening thunder of gunfire, flashing muzzle blasts illuminating the dark brick walls in strobing flashes of orange and white.
It wasn't a firefight. It was an execution.
From the fire escapes above, from behind the parked delivery trucks, and from inside the restaurant doors, a dozen armed men materialized out of nowhere, cutting down Viktor’s mercenaries before they could fire a single aimed round. Glass shattered. Metal groaned under a hail of high-caliber bullets. The two mercenaries flanking Viktor dropped instantly, their bodies hitting the pavement with dull, heavy thuds.
Viktor screamed in sheer terror, stumbling backward and dropping his weapon as a bullet grazed his shoulder. He scrambled frantically toward the open door of the black SUV, desperate to escape.
He didn't make it.
Andrew moved with terrifying, blinding speed. In less than three seconds, he closed the fifty-foot gap between them, grabbed Viktor by the collar of his jacket with one massive hand, and slammed him against the side of the Escalade with a metal-shattering crash that dented the door frame.
“Where is she?” Andrew snarled, pressing the barrel of a polished Beretta directly under Viktor’s chin.
“I—I don't know!” Viktor choked out, his eyes wide with unadulterated terror, spittle flying from his lips. “The girl’s mother... she’s being moved tonight! To the airstrip in Teterboro! The buyer’s private jet leaves in forty minutes!”
Andrew didn't hesitate. He smashed the butt of his pistol into Viktor’s temple, and the mercenary collapsed into an unconscious heap on the asphalt.
Andrew turned around sharply, his dark eyes locking onto me where I cowered behind the brick pillar. He strode over, dropping to one knee so we were eye-level once more.
The fierce, deadly predator of a moment ago vanished, replaced by an intense, urgent gentleness.
“Ivy,” Andrew said, his hands resting firmly on my shaking shoulders. “Listen to me very carefully. Your five dollars bought you the most powerful army in New York. And we keep our contracts.”
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He stood up, scooping me effortlessly into his arms, pressing me securely against his chest as he walked toward his own waiting Mercedes.
“Luca! Get the tactical chopper prepped at the pier,” Andrew shouted over the radio. “We’re going to Teterboro. And call the strike team at Ashwood Nursing Home—tell them to tear that building down to the foundation and rescue my brother, Daniel!”
