[Jake's POV]
Three gunboats. Matte-black, sitting low in the water, cutting through the gray chop of the East River like sharks drawn to a fresh kill.
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, watching them converge on the private docks at the base of Apex Tower. They didn't slow down. They didn't hail the harbor master. The lead boat slammed hard against the concrete pier, the impact absorbed by heavy rubber bumpers, and before the hull even settled, men in dark tactical gear were pouring over the sides.
"Nia!" I barked, turning away from the glass. "Status on the physical breach!"
"They're through the loading dock doors!" Nia yelled, her fingers flying across her keyboards in a blur of frantic motion. The massive monitors above her workstation were flashing a violent, strobing red. "I have twelve—no, fifteen hostiles in the ground-floor lobby. They're heavily armed, moving in tactical formation. Tier-One PMCs."
