Silas steps forward. He isn't shrinking anymore. He is expanding, filling the space with his darkness.
"While you were busy chasing me," Silas says, "the Triads took your distribution center in Chinatown. The Yardies burned your stash houses in the Bronx. And the Latin Kings... well, they just drove a truck bomb into your headquarters in Brighton Beach."
"You lie," Nikolai hisses.
"Check your phone again," Silas suggests.
Another phone rings. This time it belongs to the head of his security detail. Then another.
Panic ripples through the guards. They look at their phones. They look at each other. They are realizing that the paycheck they were promised might not exist anymore.
"Kill him!" Nikolai screams, pointing a shaking finger at Silas. "Kill him now!"
"Ivy," Silas says calmly into the comms. "Light it up."
I press the button.
BOOM.
The world explodes.
The charge on the left stack of shipping containers detonates.
It is a concussive force that punches the air from my lungs. The metal container groans, twists, and tips over with a deafening screech of tearing steel.
It crashes down onto the asphalt, creating a massive wall of metal between Nikolai and three of his guards.
Dust and smoke billow up, choking the floodlight.
"Flash out!" I scream into the mic.
Silas drops to the ground, covering his eyes.
I throw the flashbang grenade I had clipped to my belt. It arcs through the air and lands in the center of the confusion.
BANG.
A blinding white light sears the retina of anyone looking. The guards scream, blinded, firing blindly into the smoke.
Silas moves.
He rolls, drawing his gun from the holster on his thigh. He fires from the prone position.
Pop. Pop.
Two of the guards on his side of the barrier drop.
I don't just watch. I act.
I raise my Glock. I rest my arms on the railing of the catwalk to steady my aim.
I see a guard trying to flank Silas. He’s moving through the smoke, raising a shotgun.
I take a breath. I find the front sight.
Squeeze.
The gun kicks in my hand.
