Chapter 9 - The Beast Unleashed for Good
Cyrus didn't hesitate. With a roar that shook the very foundation of the warehouse, the massive German Shepherd bolted from the cage enclosure like a cannonball fired from a warship.
Before Morra’s front-line enforcers could even raise their sights, Cyrus slammed into the chest of the lead gunman, sending the heavy-set mercenary crashing backward onto the concrete with enough force to shatter his collarbone.
“Shoot the damn dog! Shoot it!” Morra shrieked, panic breaking through his arrogant facade as he watched his men get thrown aside like ragdolls.
A hail of bullets chased Cyrus across the dirt floor, but the dog moved with supernatural speed, weaving through the support beams and leaping over stacked crates. He was a blur of muscle, fur, and pure, unadulterated vengeance.
“Viktor, cover the left flank! Push them back toward the loading dock!” Julian barked orders with the precision of a military general, returning fire with deadly accuracy. Two of Morra’s gunmen dropped instantly, clutching their shoulders as Julian’s bullets found their marks.
The warehouse became a war zone. Smoke filled the air, stinging the eyes and tasting of copper and cordite.
Amidst the roaring gunfire and shouting men, Maisie sat quietly behind the steel cage frame. She couldn't see the muzzle flashes or the blood staining the concrete, but she could hear everything. She heard the precise rhythm of Cyrus’s bounding paws, the sharp cracks of the guns, and the panicked, shallow breathing of the intruders.
Left, she called out loudly, her voice carrying cleanly through a lull in the shooting. Two are coming around the stack of tires on the left, Mr. Hart!
Julian didn't question her. He pivoted instantly, snapping his pistol toward the tire stack just as two masked enforcers rounded the corner. Two clean shots later, both men hit the floor.
Cyrus capitalized on the distraction, charging straight toward Marco Morra himself. The rival boss raised his submachine gun, but before he could pull the trigger, Cyrus launched his entire hundred-pound frame through the air, sinking his jaws squarely into Morra’s forearm.
Morra screamed in sheer agony, dropping his weapon as the dog slammed him into a stack of empty oil drums.
“Get him off me! Get this animal off me!” Morra shrieked, thrashing wildly as Cyrus clamped down tighter, his powerful jaws pinning the rival boss to the floor.
Viktor and the remaining Hart enforcers swept through the remaining invaders, disarming them in seconds and pinning them face-down in the dirt dust. Within three minutes, the ambush was completely dismantled. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by Morra’s whimpering and the ragged breathing of the exhausted combatants.
Julian walked slowly across the blood-spattered floor, his boots crunching on broken glass, until he stood over a terrified Marco Morra. He casually rested the barrel of his pistol against Morra’s forehead.
“You have a very bad habit of interrupting my business meetings, Marco,” Julian said smoothly, his voice colder than winter ice.
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“Hart... please... don't...” Morra choked out, blood dripping from his lip.
“Viktor, pack him up,” Julian ordered, stepping back and holstering his weapon. “Take him to the basement. We're going to have a very long, very educational conversation about manners.”
