Chapter 125 - Blood on the Sub-Level
Before the last word had fully left Vorontsov’s lips, the shadows behind him exploded into violence. Two of the Count’s personal guards shifted their stances to aim directly at Emma, but Vincent fired first.
The report of Vincent's rifle in the enclosed subterranean vault was deafening. The first guard collapsed into the freezing water as a hollow-point round took him in the collarbone. Immediately, the cavernous chamber erupted into a ferocious firefight. Gunfire flashed orange against the wet concrete, pinging wildly off the iron hull of the submarine.
"Garza! Suppressive fire on the hatch!" Vincent shouted, dragging Emma behind a concrete support pillar as rounds chewed through the masonry, sending razor-sharp fragments of stone slicing through the air.
Emma didn't wait for protection. Dropping to one knee, she sighted down the barrel of her carbine and fired two controlled bursts into the catwalk above the submarine's docking collar, dropping a sniper who had just emerged from an upper observation port. Her hands were rock-steady, the instincts forged through months of surviving the Sterlings and Katherine Ward’s hitmen taking over completely.
"Vorontsov is retreating into the hull!" she yelled over the deafening roar of automatic weapons.
"We can't let him seal that hatch from the inside!" Vincent shouted back. "If that sub detaches while docked in our foundation, the vacuum collapse will pull the entire tower into the river!"
Marco and two more Moretti operatives surged forward, throwing flashbang grenades toward the open hatch. The brilliant white detonations blinded the remaining guards on the loading ramp, allowing Vincent and Emma to break cover. Vincent sprinted through ankle-deep water, firing from the hip, neutralizing a guard who attempted to bring a heavy shotgun to bear.
Reaching the ramp, Vincent lunged forward, grabbing Vorontsov by the collar of his cashmere coat just as the old man reached the submarine’s threshold. Vorontsov whipped his malachite cane around with astonishing speed, a concealed blade springing from its tip, slicing cleanly through the sleeve of Vincent’s coat and scoring a shallow line across his bicep.
Vincent didn't even flinch. He struck the older man with the butt of his rifle, sending him sprawling back onto the metal grating inside the submarine’s entry vestibule. Emma leaped through the circular opening a second later, kicking the fallen cane deep into the dark depths of the vessel’s interior corridor.
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"Marco, hold the outer hatch!" Vincent ordered, panting as he pinned Vorontsov to the grated deck with a heavy boot on his chest. "Nobody enters or leaves!"
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