Chapter 6 - BLOOD ON THE HARBOR
The Newark shipping docks were dark, the cranes standing like black skeletons against the gray velvet of the midnight sky. Container ships from across the Atlantic groaned against their moorings, their massive hulls shifting in the oily water of the harbor.
This was the lifeblood of the Vale empire. Every piece of cargo that entered these docks paid a toll to Dominic Vale. And tonight, it was the stage for a execution.
Dominic stood on the elevated catwalk of Warehouse 7, looking down at a circle of black SUVs. Below him, forty heavily armed men stood in absolute silence, their faces obscured by the shadows of their caps. Vincent stood at his uncle’s right hand, his expression unreadable, while Silvio stood to the left, his hand resting on his hip near his weapon.
"Anthony Moretti think he can pressure me," Dominic said, his voice carrying clearly over the sound of the distant tide. "He thinks because my daughter is home, I will give up the northern berths to buy his silence. He doesn't know that a father who has found his child is the most dangerous animal on this earth."
Dominic turned his head slowly, his gray eyes fixing on Silvio. "Isn't that right, Silvio?"
Silvio blinked, his veteran instincts instantly alerting him to a shift in the wind. "Of course, Don Dominic. We crush him tonight. We take his processing plant in the city."
"You know, Silvio," Dominic said softly, stepping closer to the older man, "twenty-three years ago, when my June was taken from that clinic, you were the first person to arrive at my house. You sat on my sofa. You held my wife while she screamed. You told me we would find the people responsible."
"I remember," Silvio said, his jaw tightening slightly. "A terrible night."
"Vincent," Dominic called out without looking back.
Vincent stepped forward, holding a digital tablet. On the screen was a bank statement from an offshore account in Grand Cayman, dated twenty-three years ago, showing a transfer of two hundred thousand dollars from a Moretti-controlled shell company to an account registered under Silvio’s mother’s maiden name.
Silvio’s hand flew toward his jacket, but Vincent was faster. A single, muffled crack from a silenced pistol echoed through the rafters of the warehouse.
Silvio gasped, his body jerking backward against the metal railing of the catwalk. He looked down at his chest, where a dark crimson circle was rapidly expanding across his white silk shirt. He looked at Dominic, his eyes wide with the realization that his twenty-three-year-old secret had finally caught up to him.
"You... you grew soft, Dominic," Silvio hissed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. "You cared more about that brat... than the family business..."
"My daughter is the business," Dominic said coldly.
With a slight nudge of Dominic’s hand, Silvio’s weight shifted, and his body flipped over the low railing, falling thirty feet down onto the concrete floor of the warehouse with a dull, heavy thud. The forty men below didn't flinch. They didn't murmur. They simply looked up at their Don, waiting for the next order.
"Marco," Dominic called down to the floor. "Silvio’s crew belongs to you now. We move on the Moretti plant in ten minutes. I want Anthony Moretti brought to the estate alive. He has an apology to make to my daughter before he dies."
May you like
Vincent stepped up beside his uncle, his weapon already tucked away. "And the Keenes downstairs?"
"They gave us the rat," Dominic said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. "They get a quick death. Put them in the harbor with the rest of the garbage. But make sure June doesn't see it. Her life with those people ended yesterday."
