Ron Donaldo: Rise Of The Apex Don

Chapter 28

The green text glowed on Vane’s computer screen in the dark penthouse. 

HELLO VANE. I SEE YOU FOUND MY WIFE. I AM WAITING FOR YOU AT THE RIVER.

Theresa Sterling stopped breathing. She stared at the words. She felt a cold sweat break out on her neck. Ron was not just a step ahead; he was inside their minds. He knew where they were. He knew their escape plan before they even started it. 

"Vane," Theresa whispered, her voice shaking violently. "He knows. How does he know?"

Vane did not panic. He did not yell. He simply pushed his round glasses up his nose. His face remained completely boring and empty of emotion. He reached out and closed his laptop with a soft snap. 

"He hacked the city's traffic camera network before The Director shut down the power grid," Vane said calmly. "He saw my car. He calculated the fastest route out of the city. He guessed the river. It is simple math, Theresa. Do not let him scare you."

"Simple math?!" Theresa cried. She pointed at the closed laptop. "He is waiting for us! He is going to kill us! We cannot go to the river!"

"No, we cannot," Vane agreed. He picked up his plain brown briefcase. "We are changing the plan. In war, if the enemy expects you to run, you must turn around and punch them in the mouth. We will not run. We will strike."

"Strike?" Theresa asked. "With what army? You just put The Director's men to sleep on the floor!"

"I have my own men," Vane said flatly. "They are called the Ghost Hounds. They are the best private mercenaries in the world. They do not fail. I am going to find Ron Donaldo's weak spot, and I am going to break it."

Vane walked to the door. "Come with me. We are moving to a new safe house. A place Ron cannot find. And then, I will send the Hounds to hunt the King."

Two hours later, the city of Oakhaven was still trapped in total darkness. The blackout was complete. 

On the far east side of the city, near the old shipping docks, sat Warehouse 42. It was a massive, ugly building made of dirty red bricks. The windows were painted black. Heavy steel doors guarded the front. 

The rain had started to fall again. It was a cold, heavy rain. It hit the roof of the warehouse with a loud, drumming sound. 

Down the dark street, three large SUVs rolled slowly toward the warehouse. They were painted matte black. They did not use headlights. Their engines were completely electric, making absolutely no sound at all. They moved like dark sharks swimming in black water. 

The SUVs stopped two blocks away from Warehouse 42. 

The doors opened silently. Twenty men stepped out into the rain. 

These were the Ghost Hounds. They were Vane’s private strike team. They wore sleek, black tactical gear that was much lighter and faster than the heavy armor the Blackwater guards wore. They wore advanced night-vision goggles that glowed with a faint, evil green light. They carried custom-made submachine guns with thick silencers. 

The leader of the Ghost Hounds was a man named Cross. 

Cross was a cruel man. He had fought in secret wars all over the world. He liked to hurt people. He liked the smell of fear. He tapped his radio earpiece. 

"Vane," Cross whispered. "We are in position. Target is Warehouse 42."

Vane’s boring voice came through the radio. "Excellent, Cross. My satellite scans show that Warehouse 42 is pulling a massive amount of secret power from an underground generator. It is the only building in the east district with power. Ron Donaldo must be hiding the stolen lithium inside. And he might be hiding his War Room there, too. Break in. Kill the Iron Legion. Secure the metal."

"And what about the Apex?" Cross asked, smiling a nasty smile in the dark. 

"If Ron Donaldo is there," Vane said coldly, "bring me his head."

Cross nodded. He raised his hand and gave a sharp tactical signal to his men. 

The twenty Ghost Hounds moved. They did not walk on the sidewalk. They moved through the dark alleys, sliding over fences and creeping behind old trash cans. They were completely silent. They were true professionals. 

They reached the front of Warehouse 42. 

There were no guards outside. There were no lights. The heavy steel doors were locked with thick steel chains. 

Cross pulled a pair of heavy bolt cutters from his back. He gripped the handles and squeezed hard. 

SNAP. 

The thick steel chain broke. Cross caught the chain before it could hit the ground and make a noise. He gently placed it in the wet grass. 

He pointed at two of his men. They stepped forward and grabbed the heavy steel doors. 

Cross raised three fingers. Then two. Then one. 

The men pulled the doors open fast. 

The Ghost Hounds swept into the dark warehouse like a swarm of deadly bees. They raised their weapons, pointing the green lasers into every dark corner. They moved in perfect military formation. They checked the left side, the right side, and the high ceilings. They were ready for a massive gunfight. They were ready to kill the Iron Legion. 

But there was no gunfight. 

The warehouse was completely empty. 

Cross frowned behind his green night-vision goggles. He walked slowly into the center of the massive room. 

There were no wooden pallets of lithium. There were no black trucks. There were no ex-convicts waiting to ambush them. There was just empty space and a lot of dust on the concrete floor. 

"Sweep the back rooms!" Cross ordered in a harsh whisper. "Check the roof!"

His men spread out quickly. They kicked open the office doors. They shined their lights into the bathrooms. 

"Clear!" one soldier whispered. 

"Clear!" another called out. 

"The building is empty, Commander," his second-in-command said, walking back to Cross. "There is nothing here."

Cross was very confused. Vane was never wrong. Vane’s data was always perfect. The building was using a huge amount of power. Why was it empty?