TINY GIRL DESPERATELY READS LIPS OF 4 JAPANESE MEN AT GALA AND URGENTLY SLAPS PLATE BEFORE MAFIA BOSS TASTES THE DEADLY POISON

Midnight at the San Francisco harbor was cold, damp, and smelled of salt and diesel fuel.

Rain poured from the ink-black sky, hammering against the corrugated iron roof of Warehouse 4. Inside, high-powered floodlights illuminated dozens of heavy wooden crates marked Machinery Parts.

Victor Vance stood near a black SUV, flanked by twelve heavily armed mercenaries wearing tactical gear. A timer on his wrist showed 11:20 PM.

"Wipe the hard drives!" Victor shouted over the sound of the rain. "Douse the eastern stacks with kerosene! Make sure the night guard's body looks like he was trapped in the flames!"

"I wouldn't recommend that, Uncle."

The deep voice echoed from the high rafters of the warehouse.

Victor snapped his head up.

Out of the shadows walked Renzo Mercer. He wore a heavy black tactical coat, holding a sleek assault rifle low at his hip. Behind him, emerging from the dark corners of the warehouse, were thirty of the Mercer Syndicate’s most elite enforcement units, their laser sights painting red dots across the chests of Victor’s mercenaries.

"Renzo!" Victor gasped, backing into his car. "What... what are you doing here?"

"Saving my workers," Renzo said, walking slowly down the central aisle. "And burying a traitor."

"You don't understand!" Victor yelled, his hands shaking as he reached for a weapon hidden under his coat. "Kazama promised me control of the Asian trade routes! You were turning us into a legitimate corporation, Renzo! You were destroying everything your father built with your weak laws and your legal charities!"

"My father died because of men like you," Renzo spat. "Drop your weapons!"

In a desperate split second, Victor grabbed his mercenary captain and pulled him forward as a human shield, opening fire into the gloom!

"Fire!" Lev roared.

The warehouse erupted into a deafening storm of gunfire. Muzzle flashes illuminated the vast room in blinding strobe lights. Bullets tore through wooden crates, shattering glass and metal. Renzo moved like a phantom through the chaos, returning fire with lethal precision, dropping three mercenaries in as many seconds.

Victor scrambled toward a side door, bleeding from a shoulder wound, sprinting into the pouring rain outside.

Renzo pursued him into the dark alley behind the docks.

"Victor!" Renzo bellowed over the roar of the ocean waves crashing against the pier.

Victor turned, his face slick with rain and blood, raising his pistol with a wild, crazy grin. "You're too late, nephew! Kazama’s main fleet is already sitting two miles offshore! They have targeting coordinates for your estate in Pacific Heights! By now, your little safe house is a crater!"

Renzo’s blood ran cold. Claire. Ivy.

Before Victor could pull the trigger, a suppressed shot echoed through the alley. Victor froze, looked down at the crimson hole in the center of his chest, and collapsed onto the wet concrete.

Lev ran up behind Renzo, holding a smoking pistol. "Boss! We secured the warehouse! But we intercepted radio traffic—Kazama’s strike team just breached the outer perimeter of your estate!"