Ron Donaldo: Rise Of The Apex Don

Chapter 14

Highway 9 was a long, black snake cutting through the deep Blackwood Forest. It was 2:30 AM. The rain was falling very hard. The heavy drops of water hit the black asphalt road with a loud, hissing sound. The tall pine trees on both sides of the road looked like giant, dark ghosts. 

There were no other cars. The road was totally empty. 

In the middle of the dark highway, a man stood completely still. It was Ron Donaldo. 

He wore a long, black winter coat. The rain poured down on his head, making his dark hair stick to his face. He did not shiver. He did not move. He stood directly on the yellow line in the middle of the road. His hands were resting calmly in his coat pockets. He looked like a king waiting for his subjects. 

In the dark trees on the left side of the road, General Vance waited. He was lying flat on his stomach in the wet mud. He held a heavy sniper rifle. He looked through the glass scope. 

In the trees on the right side of the road, the Iron Legion waited. Forty elite ex-convicts from The Pit. They wore black armor. They wore black masks. They held heavy weapons. They were totally silent. They did not make a single sound. They were ghosts in the rain. 

"Target is coming, Sir," General Vance whispered into a small radio near his mouth. 

Ron heard the General's voice in a small earpiece hidden in his ear. Ron did not answer. He just looked down the dark, empty road. 

Far away, bright white lights appeared in the heavy rain. 

Rumble. Rumble. Rumble. 

The sound of heavy diesel engines echoed through the forest. The ground began to shake slightly. 

The Sterling Tech convoy was coming fast. 

There were seven vehicles in total. In the front, two large, black SUVs drove side by side. They were the security lead. Behind them were three massive, gray armored trucks. These trucks were built like tanks. They carried the precious lithium. Behind the trucks were two more black SUVs protecting the back. 

The vehicles were moving at eighty miles per hour. They were throwing huge waves of dirty water into the air. 

Inside the first black SUV, the driver wore a tactical uniform. He had a machine gun resting on his lap. He looked through the rainy windshield. 

"Commander," the driver said into his radio. "There is a man standing in the middle of the road."

"What?" the Commander answered from the second SUV. "Is it a trap? Run him over! Do not stop the convoy!"

"Yes, Sir," the driver said. He pressed his foot hard on the gas pedal. 

The heavy black SUV sped up. It roared like an angry beast. It rushed straight toward Ron. Ninety miles per hour. One hundred miles per hour. The bright headlights blinded the night. 

Ron stood perfectly still. The huge car was only two hundred feet away. One hundred feet away. Fifty feet. 

Ron did not close his eyes. He did not jump out of the way. 

"Now," Ron whispered. 

From the dark trees, Jax threw a thick, black metal wire across the road. On the other side, another ex-convict grabbed the wire and pulled it tight. 

The wire was tied to the thick trunks of two massive pine trees. It was pulled perfectly tight, exactly two feet above the wet road. 

The first two black SUVs hit the wire at one hundred miles per hour. 

SCREECH! CRUNCH!

The wire did not break. It cut through the front grills of the heavy cars like a hot knife cutting butter. It smashed the engines. The front wheels caught the wire, and the heavy SUVs flipped completely forward. 

They flew through the air, turning upside down in the heavy rain. They crashed onto the hard black road with a deafening sound of breaking metal and shattering glass. They slid for fifty feet, throwing yellow sparks everywhere, before finally stopping in the ditch. 

The three gray armored trucks slammed hard on their brakes. 

Squeeeeeal!

The heavy trucks slid sideways on the wet road. White smoke poured from their huge tires. They stopped just ten feet away from Ron. The two back SUVs crashed into the back of the trucks. 

The entire convoy was broken and trapped. 

Ron had not moved a single inch. The bright lights of the stopped trucks shined on his face. 

The doors of the back SUVs flew open. Twelve Blackwater soldiers jumped out. They were angry. They raised their automatic rifles. 

"Kill him!" a soldier yelled, pointing his gun at Ron. 

But Ron's Iron Legion was ready. 

This was not a messy gang fight. This was a surgical strike. Ron had given a strict order: No killing unless necessary. We are professionals.

From the top of the tall pine trees, General Vance pulled the trigger of his sniper rifle. 

Pew. Pew. Pew. 

He was not shooting bullets. He was shooting heavy rubber riot slugs. The rubber slugs hit the Blackwater soldiers in the chest and legs. The hits were so powerful they knocked the soldiers flat on their backs. 

At the exact same time, the forty men of the Iron Legion stepped out of the dark forest. 

They moved with perfect military precision. They threw six flashbang grenades onto the road. 

BANG! FLASH!

Bright white light blinded the remaining guards. Loud noise made their ears ring. Before they could rub their eyes, the Iron Legion was upon them. 

Jax ran to a guard who was trying to shoot. Jax did not use a gun. He grabbed the guard's rifle with one huge hand and pulled it away. With his other hand, Jax chopped the side of the guard's neck. The guard fell asleep instantly, dropping to the wet road. 

Another ex-convict kicked a guard's knee, sweeping him to the floor, and tied his hands with thick plastic zip-ties in two seconds. 

The Iron Legion moved like a well-oiled machine. They did not shout. They did not panic. They just dismantled the security team piece by piece. In exactly forty-five seconds, all thirty highly trained Blackwater guards were lying on the ground, tied up, and groaning in pain. Not a single man was dead. But they were all completely beaten. 

Ron walked slowly through the broken glass and tied-up bodies. The rain washed the smoke from the air. 

General Vance stepped out of the trees. He walked up to Ron. He had a massive grin on his scarred face. 

"The security detail is neutralized, my King," General Vance said proudly. "Surgical precision. Just like you ordered."

Ron nodded. "Good work, General. Now, let us open the prizes."

Ron walked to the back of the first gray armored truck. The back doors were sealed with heavy steel locks. 

Jax stepped forward holding a huge, heavy metal crowbar. He shoved the crowbar into the lock and pulled with all his terrifying strength. The metal screamed. 

SNAP.

The lock broke. Jax pulled the heavy doors open.