The wind howled through the desolate streets of Ravendale, carrying with it the scent of rain and the distant echoes of sirens. The city had never slept, but tonight, something unnatural stirred in the air. Beneath the cover of darkness, a storm brewed—not just in the sky but in the souls of those preparing for what was to come.
Liam Vance pulled his black leather gloves tighter, the familiar chill of anticipation creeping up his spine. He stood atop a crumbling rooftop, surveying the warehouse district below. His earpiece crackled to life.
"Vance, you in position?" came the voice of Alex Carter, his second-in-command.
"Yeah," Liam replied, eyes locked on the convoy pulling into the abandoned pier. "I count six trucks, a dozen guards. Heavily armed."
"This is it," Alex said. "Tonight, we end them."
"The Nightborn won't see it coming."
For months, their unit—codenamed Specter—had been tracking the Nightborn, a ruthless syndicate responsible for smuggling weapons, drugs, and human lives. They operated like ghosts, slipping through the cracks of the city's law enforcement, always a step ahead. But no longer. Liam had spent years waiting for this moment. And tonight, he would take them down.
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the scene below. The Nightborn enforcers, clad in black tactical gear, unloaded crates from the trucks. Their leader, a towering man with a jagged scar across his cheek—Dmitri Kovac—stood at the center, barking orders. Liam's grip tightened on the rifle strapped to his back.
"This bastard ruined too many lives," he muttered.
"Then let's make sure he doesn't ruin any more," Alex replied. "On your signal."
Liam took a deep breath. The storm was closing in, the wind rattling the rusted metal structures around him. The timing was perfect. The sound of gunfire would be swallowed by the storm.
"Go."
Like wraiths in the night, Specter moved.
From the rooftops, Liam and his team descended, rappelling down the side of an old warehouse. Silencers on their rifles whispered death into the night as they picked off the perimeter guards. The enemy barely had time to react before the first explosion rocked the docks.
Boom!
The first truck erupted in flames, sending debris flying in all directions. The Nightborn panicked, shouting orders, scrambling for cover. That was their mistake.
Liam hit the ground running, his rifle kicking against his shoulder as he dropped two more enforcers. Alex and the others spread out, suppressing fire cutting through the night. Smoke and flame painted the scene in a chaotic glow.
Kovac, to his credit, didn't flinch. He pulled a pistol from his holster and barked, "Kill them all!"
His men obeyed.
Bullets screamed past Liam's head as he dove behind a stack of crates. Splinters erupted from the wood as enemy fire tore through his cover. He rolled out, switching to his sidearm, and placed two precise shots into a charging enemy's chest.
"Vance! We got a problem!" Alex called over the comms.
Liam turned to see what he meant—and his stomach dropped.
A second wave of Nightborn reinforcements was arriving. Black SUVs screeched to a halt, doors flying open as more armed killers spilled out, weapons blazing.
"We're outnumbered!" Alex shouted.
Liam cursed. "Stick to the plan! We take Kovac, the rest fall apart!"
He sprinted through the chaos, weaving between burning vehicles and fallen bodies. His target was in sight—Kovac was retreating toward a speedboat at the far end of the dock.
Not a chance.
Liam surged forward, leaping over debris, dodging enemy fire. A Nightborn thug lunged at him with a knife. Liam sidestepped, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted—hard. The sickening crunch of bone breaking was lost in the storm. He followed up with a brutal elbow to the jaw, dropping the attacker instantly.
Kovac was nearly at the boat now.
Liam's muscles burned as he pushed himself faster.
The storm raged around them. Thunder roared. Rain fell in sheets, soaking his gear. His boots splashed against the wet concrete as he closed the distance.
Kovac turned at the last second, raising his pistol.
Too slow.
Liam fired first.
The bullet struck Kovac's shoulder, spinning him backward onto the dock. He groaned, clutching his wound, his pistol clattering to the ground.
Liam stalked toward him, breathing heavy, heart pounding. He leveled his gun at the wounded crime lord.
"It's over," he said.
Kovac chuckled, spitting blood. "You think killing me will change anything? Another will take my place."
"Maybe," Liam admitted. "But tonight, your reign ends."
And with that, he pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed through the night.
Silence fell over the docks, save for the crackling fire and the distant wail of sirens.
Liam exhaled, lowering his weapon. Around him, the remnants of the battle settled. His team emerged victorious, bruised but standing.
Tonight was a glorious night.
But the war was far from over.