Chapter 7 - The Shadows of Brooklyn
The rain over Brooklyn fell in heavy, rhythmic sheets, drumming against the corrugated tin roofs of the old shipping warehouses along the East River. It was a part of the city that didn't care about the glittering lights of Fifth Avenue or the pristine obsidian floors of the Meridian Grand. Here, business was conducted in damp offices, behind barred windows, and with the silent cooperation of men who knew how to make a body disappear into the tide.
In the back office of a defunct dry cleaner’s, Dante Moretti sat behind a scarred wooden desk, staring at a printout of the federal asset seizure reports.
Dante was Salvatore Moretti’s younger brother—younger, angrier, and far less patient than the old guard. While his brother lay recovering in a guarded wing at Bellevue, Dante had spent the last six months watching the Winter Alliance—traditionally a brotherhood of mafia dons—transform into a matriarchy run by women who didn't negotiate territory over cigars and brandy.
The door creaked open, admitting two of his capos, both soaked to the skin.
"We checked the docks in Red Hook," one of them reported, wiping rain from his forehead. "The Callahan shipping manifests are still locked out. Victoria’s new harbormaster turned away three of our container ships this morning. Said they don't recognize our import permits."
Dante slammed his fist against the wooden desk, rattling a stack of invoices. "She thinks because she outmaneuvered Ethan, she can starve us out? Ethan was an idiot who trusted his wife; we aren't Ethan."
"What do you want to do, Dante?" the second capo asked, stepping closer. "The other families are falling in line. Elena Russo has the European routes locked down tight. If we don't make a move now, the Alliance won't just control New York—they’ll own every port on the East Coast."
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Dante stood up slowly, a cold, calculating grin cutting across his weathered face. He reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy, snub-nosed revolver, spinning the cylinder with a satisfying click.
"Victoria Callahan wants to run an empire like a corporation?" Dante whispered, his eyes dark with malice. "Let’s see how her board of directors likes doing business when the warehouses start burning from the inside."
