Chapter 6 - Midnight Counterstrike
The rain poured heavily over the dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean. A sleek, high-speed black tactical boat cut through the choppy waves, its engines muffled to a low hum. Onboard were Rory Starks and eight of his most trusted, highly trained men, all clad in tactical gear and night-vision goggles.
Back at the estate, 2:55 a.m. arrived.
In the nursery, Veronica sat on the edge of the large bed. Lily and Rose were tucked beneath warm blankets, clutching new, completely safe cotton teddy bears that Veronica had carefully inspected herself. The girls were calm, though their small faces still bore the pale exhaustion of weeks of torture.
"Is the monster coming back tonight, Miss Veronica?" Lily whispered, her small voice trembling.
Veronica smiled gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from the girl's forehead. "No, sweetie. The monster is gone. Your daddy went to make sure it never comes back."
"Is Daddy safe?" Rose asked, her big brown eyes filled with worry.
"Your daddy is very strong," Veronica said reassuringly. "And tonight, he's stopping the bad men."
At 2:58 a.m., Leo, working from the basement command center, detected the incoming radio ping from Vance's cargo ship.
"Ping received," Leo reported through Rory’s earpiece. "I'm executing the script now. The system is feeding Vance fake encrypted files—a Trojan virus disguised as your master ledger. As soon as he opens it, his entire shipboard server will be wiped, and his location coordinates will be locked."
"Understood," Rory’s voice came through the comms, cold and steady. "We're boarding now."
On the deck of the giant container ship The Iron Leviathan, Marcus Vance sat inside a luxuriously fitted captain’s cabin, surrounded by computer screens. He was a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a sharp, cruel face. He watched a progress bar on his screen hit 99%.
"Almost got it," Vance chuckled to himself, sipping scotch. "Two more minutes of those brats screaming, and I own New York."
Suddenly, the computer monitors flashed bright red. A flashing warning symbol appeared on every screen: CRITICAL SYSTEM COMPROMISE.
"What the hell?" Vance shouted, jumping out of his chair.
Before he could reach the keyboard, the cabin door was blown inward with a deafening explosive pop. Flashbang grenades detonated inside the hallway, filling the air with blinding light and disorienting noise.
Rory’s strike team poured into the room with lethal efficiency. Vance’s armed bodyguards were disarmed and neutralized within seconds.
Before Vance could pull the gun hidden under his desk, a heavy, gloved hand seized him by the throat and slammed him violently against the steel bulkhead wall.
Vance gasped for air, his eyes widening in sheer terror as he looked into the dark, rage-filled eyes of Rory Starks.
"Rory..." Vance choked out, blood dripping from his lip. "How... how did you..."
Rory tightened his grip, lifting the larger man off his feet. "You put a torture device inside my six-year-old daughters' toy, Marcus."
Vance’s face turned purple. "It... it was just business... a tactic..."
"Business?" Rory’s voice was a low, terrifying growl that chilled the room. "You hurt my baby girls. You made them scream in agony for two months just so you could steal my shipping routes."
Rory drew his sidearm, pressing the cold steel barrel directly against Vance's forehead.
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"Please!" Vance whimpered, tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "I'll give you everything! My territory, my accounts! Just let me live!"
"You don't get to offer me anything," Rory said coldly. "You're going to sign over every asset, every dock, and every ledger you own to the Starks family. And then, you're going to spend the rest of your life in a dark room where no one will ever hear you scream."
