Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
KIRILL
Two hundred meters to my left, Matvey’s positioned on another rooftop, weapon at the ready.
Below us, fifty soldiers are spread across the pier, hidden from sight.
The last few days have been intense. Planning everything in person with only a select few aware of the true mission.
Most of the soldiers think this is a standard pickup with extra security because of recent attacks.
Only my brothers, Elio, and his two captains know we’re setting a trap.
It’s a gamble. If one of those fifty is compromised, the Ghost knows we’re here.
But we can’t run an operation this size with just six people.
Sometimes you have to roll the dice and hope your odds are better than the enemy’s.
The bait is simple, but expensive. Docked at the pier sits the cargo ship from Afghanistan, fifty kilos of uncut heroin in its hold.
The Ghost has a pattern: they hit big shipments, high-value targets, operations where risk and reward run equally high. This should be irresistible.
Dem’s voice crackles through my earpiece from the surveillance van three miles out. “All positions, status check.”
“North side clear,” I murmur into my mic. “No movement.”
“Copy. Drones are circling, thermals show nothing unusual. Tech team confirms all systems operational.”
“Ready,” Matvey confirms.
One by one, our people respond. Three squad leaders commanding our men spread across the area. They’re inside containers, behind equipment, underneath the dock itself, tucked within the warehouses flanking the approach. They’re armed with automatic weapons and night vision. All of them waiting.
Elio’s voice cuts through. “South side locked down. We’re ready.”
Everything is in place. Every angle covered. Every contingency planned for.
And still, my gut says something’s wrong.
We coordinated everything through encrypted messaging, nothing verbal. If the Ghost has been listening through bugs, they should have no idea what’s waiting.
“Unloading starts in five minutes,” Dem says. “Stay quiet. When they show, we let them commit before we move. The Ghost operates with soldiers, probably ex-military based on their precision. We need at least one alive for interrogation. No one fires until I give the order.”
I scan the approaches through my scope, taking in the city skyline glittering in the distance, oblivious to what’s unfolding in the industrial wasteland of Red Hook.
My finger rests alongside the trigger guard.
It all comes down to the next hour. If we stop the Ghost tonight, get intel, I can end this and get my father off my back. Get my Bratva back.
I hate Elio a little less after the Marco situation. He’s still an asshole, and I still don’t want him as a brother-in-law, which tonight will ensure.
“Heroin’s moving,” Dem confirms. “First pallets coming up.”
Through the scope, the crew emerges with the first load, wheeling it down the gangway toward waiting trucks.
The unloading continues, nothing out of the ordinary, until Matvey reports in. “Multiple contacts, water approach from the east.”
My crosshairs swing toward the Hudson. Dark shapes cutting through the water. It takes a second to register they’re speedboats, running without lights, closing fast on the pier.
“Visual confirmed,” I say. “Four speedboats, no lights, approaching from?—“
And like that, the comms cut out.
There’s no static or interference on the line. Just nothing. Like someone reached into my ear and ripped the connection out.
I press my transmit button. “Dem? Command, do you copy?”
Silence.
“Matvey? Anyone?”
Fuck.
“Hello, gentlemen.” A digitally distorted voice cuts through the dead air.
It’s robotic, stripped of any identifying features.
Every muscle locks up. “We know you can hear us,” the voice continues, speaking through our own encrypted comms system.
“Very impressive setup. You really went all out for us.”
I sweep the pier through the lens, searching for targets, for movement, for anything. The speedboats have reached the dock, figures in black pouring out, but my attention snaps to the cargo ship. The men I took for dock workers raise weapons and open fire on our positions.
Fuck. The Ghost got their people on our cargo ship before it ever docked. The speedboats aren't an attack force. They're the getaway.
Our men scatter, diving behind containers and equipment as bullets tear through the air. They try to coordinate, falling back on hand signals and visual cues, but without comms there’s no way to call for backup, no way to direct fire, no way to warn each other.
“Did you really think you could fool me?” it asks, amused. “That I wouldn’t see through the trap you tried to set?”
My jaw clenches. Always one step ahead. They hijacked the ship before it even docked.
“We’re going to give you a demonstration. A lesson in why you’re already losing this war.” Robotic laughter comes through. “The past always comes back, gentlemen. And I’ve been very, very patient.”
The past always comes back? What the fuck does that mean?
But the docks are already a fucking war zone, and there’s no time to think.
Below, our men scramble, raising weapons, trying to organize without a way to speak with each other. Muzzle flashes strobe across the pier as they shoot back.
But they’re surrounded. Ghost soldiers from the ship, from the boats, all of them moving with military precision while our people can’t talk to each other.
I line up a shot on one of the operatives spilling from the speedboat and fire.
The target drops hard. Blood sprays. One down, but more keep pouring from the boats, taking cover behind the pylons, laying down disciplined fire that pins our people in place.
Bullets slam into the rooftop around me. I roll behind the HVAC unit as concrete bursts where my head was seconds ago.
They know exactly where I am.
Staying low, I head for the fire escape. I need to get down there and salvage something from this disaster.
I'm halfway down the staircase when a figure appears on the landing below me.
A Ghost soldier in head-to-toe black tactical gear.
We freeze for half a second, and then everything detonates at once.
The soldier swings their rifle up toward me as I throw myself sideways, slamming into the railing while rounds rip through the space where I'd just been standing.
My own rifle clatters down the stairs, bouncing past the soldier's boots and out of reach.
No time to draw my sidearm. They're already closing the distance, weapon coming back around, and if I let them set their stance I'm dead. So I launch myself down the last few steps and drive my shoulder into their chest before they can line up the shot.
We slam against the concrete wall hard enough to rattle my teeth, a tendon grinding deep in my shoulder, but the adrenaline buries the pain under something hotter.
Their rifle goes off between us, rounds spraying wild into the stairwell as I get both hands on the barrel and wrench it sideways.
The strap snaps and the weapon clatters down the stairs after mine, both of us suddenly empty-handed and breathing hard in the narrow space.
They recover first and drive an elbow into my face.
Pain flares across my cheekbone, copper flooding my mouth, and I answer with a punch to their gut that empties their lungs in one wet sound.
I catch the next strike before it lands, twist their arm back at an angle the joint isn't meant to bend, and slam them face-first into the wall.
They grunt but they're not done yet, driving a boot into the side of my knee hard enough that my leg buckles, and we both go down grappling on the landing.
I get on top, pin their arms, press my forearm across their throat just hard enough to make my point. "Who do you work for? Who's the Ghost?"
They spit blood in my face as boots thunder down from above. Fuck. Their backup is closing fast and I'm out of time to play interrogator. I grab my sidearm and slam the grip into their temple. Once, twice. They go limp.
I fire two rounds up through the stairwell to slow whoever's coming, the shots cracking off concrete and buying me maybe ten seconds. Then I holster the pistol, haul the unconscious Ghost under his arms, and drag him down the stairs as fast as my knee will let me.
My shoulder screams and my knee protests, but I don't stop until I kick the exit door open and drag him outside into the fray. The pier is lit up like a battlefield, muzzle flashes strobing through the smoke.
I spot one of our SUVs thirty feet away. Fuck, yes. The sooner I can get them out of here, the sooner I can find out who they work for.
As I drag him, the soldier starts convulsing.
I drop them and yank my sidearm back out, thinking they're coming to. Then the foam at the corner of their mouth registers, the way their body goes rigid before it goes slack.
“No, no, no,” I groan, but it’s too late.
Dead. Our one chance at real intel, gone by their own hand before they'd give us a single name.
They must have had a cyanide pill tucked in their cheek the whole time, waiting for the moment they knew the game was up.
I haul the corpse toward the SUV and shove it into the back anyway. Maybe our guys can pull something useful off him. Tattoos, scars, dental records, the manufacturer of the boots on his feet. There has to be something we can work with.
A figure materializes through the smoke. It’s Elio, with a gash above his eye leaking red, his face twisted with fury.
“What the fuck just happened?” he demands.
I shake my head. “We need to pull out now.” I cup my hands around my mouth. “Fall back! Everyone to the vehicles!”
Elio echoes the order, his voice carrying across the pier.
Our people break from cover, running for the access road. The Ghosts let them go, not pursuing, methodically loading product from the cargo ship onto their speedboats.
Duffel bags of heroin, millions worth, transferred while we retreat like beaten dogs.
The gunfire stops as suddenly as it started. It’s quiet now except for the groans of the wounded and the lap of water against pilings.
The whir of helicopter rotors breaks through the silence and a spotlight hits the pier. I raise my weapon, then catch the markings. The chopper’s ours.
The bird sets down and Dem jumps out, his face murderous as he runs toward us. “They hacked everything. All the feeds went dark, drones stopped responding, the whole system crashed out. Our tech guys tried to fight back but we hit a wall.”
We were played. The Ghost used our trap against us.
“Get everyone who can walk into vehicles,” I order. “We’re done here.”
I count bodies as our people limp toward the road. A glint near one of the fallen stops me. A coin, placed deliberately beside the body like a calling card. I pick it up and shove it in my pocket.
A fucking disaster on every level.
The moment we touch down at the private airstrip in Jersey, I know what’s coming. Elio was quiet the whole trip. We all were, digesting the fact that we got our asses handed to us by someone we can’t see, can’t track, and apparently can’t outsmart.
The second we’re boots on the ground, Elio rounds on me, face dark.
“What the fuck just happened? I thought we went in with a plan.”
“We did. No one could’ve seen that coming.”
“Bullshit. You said this would be clean and simple. We’d capture a Ghost soldier, interrogate them, figure out who’s behind the attacks. That’s what you fucking sold me.”
Fury boils inside me. “I don’t have a fucking crystal ball, Elio. I had a plan, that’s it. You were in those meetings. We all agreed the bait was good, the trap would work if the Ghost took it. How was I supposed to know they’d hijack the ship and crack our encrypted comms?”
His laugh is bitter. “My men are spooked, questioning whether I know what the hell I’m doing. And you know what? They’re right to. Because I took your word for it, and now we’re worse off than before.”
Matvey shifts beside me, but I wave him off. This is between me and Elio.
“Your family didn’t want this alliance in the first place,” I say carefully.
“But you agreed because you don’t want to marry my sister any more than I want her marrying you.
We both have skin in this game. Listen, you’re spooked.
I get it. But this isn’t the time to freak out. We need to see this through.”
He shakes his head and presses his palms into his eyes. “This Ghost, whatever it is, plays by rules we don’t understand. We walked into that fight thinking we had the advantage and crawled out with our teeth kicked in. I’m not doing that again.”
I laugh. “So you’re just going to walk away? Roll over and let them keep hitting us until there’s nothing left?”
He drags a hand through his hair, and for the first time since I’ve known him, Elio Valenti looks rattled. “Unless every crime family in this city bands together, we don’t have the numbers or the resources to take this on. And you know as well as I do that kind of alliance is never happening.”
He straightens his jacket, composing himself. “You want to keep fighting a war you can’t win, that’s your business. But I’m not dragging my family down with you.”
He walks away without another word, leaving me standing on the tarmac with my brothers.
Dem exhales slowly. “Well. Fuck. He didn’t take that well.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, watching Elio’s car disappear into the night. “Fuck is right.”
“So what now?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the coin I found next to one of our dead soldiers. A taunt. “Now we figure out how to kill a ghost on our own.”