The third port was already a war zone when Raven arrived on the third night of the attacks.
Thick black smoke rolled across the docks like a living thing. Flames from burning fuel tanks lit the sky in ugly shades of orange and red. Gunfire cracked in short, vicious bursts. The air tasted like diesel and gunpowder. Raven jumped out of the armored SUV before it fully stopped rolling, knife strapped tight to her thigh and pistol gripped in her hand.
Leonid was already there.
The Black Wolf stood in the middle of the container yard, completely surrounded. He fought like a cornered animal — massive rifle in one hand, combat knife in the other, blood running down the side of his face from a cut above his eye. Caruso men swarmed him from three sides. Leading the attack was a big, scarred bastard Raven recognized immediately: The Butcher. One of Caruso's elite enforcers. Guardian-level. The man who liked to carve pieces off his enemies while they were still screaming.
