Chapter 6 - Fire on Pier 14
Midnight arrived with a heavy fog rolling off the dark waters of the harbor, wrapping the corrugated steel warehouses in a thick, ghostly mist.
Pier 14 was a sprawling, neglected complex of cranes, rusting shipping containers, and abandoned brick offices. Inside the main central bay, twelve of Paul Moretti’s men sat around a burning oil drum, drinking whiskey from paper cups and cleaning automatic rifles.
Suddenly, the massive steel roll-up doors of the warehouse blew inward with a deafening thunderclap of smoke and twisted metal.
Flashbang grenades detonated in blinding bursts of white light and ear-splitting booms. Before Moretti's men could even grab their weapons from the tables, three squads of Costa security operators in full tactical gear poured through the smoke, their silenced weapons raised with military precision.
"Freeze! Down on the floor! Hands on your heads!"
Within forty-five seconds, all twelve enforcers were pinned face-down against the cold concrete floor, their weapons kicked away and secured.
Salvatore Costa walked slowly through the drifting smoke, dressed in a long black leather trench coat. He stepped over the scattered shell casings and stopped near the burning oil drum.
Standing tied to a steel pillar at the far side of the room was a gaunt, shivering man with hollow cheeks, bruised eyes, and dirty clothes.
It was Julian Miller—Elena’s missing husband.
Salvatore stopped three feet in front of him, staring down at the trembling man with cold, utter disdain.
"S-Salvatore..." Julian whimpered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably from fear and withdrawal. "Please... please don't kill me! I don't have the money! Moretti locked me in here three weeks ago! He was using me to sign forged papers for Elena's land!"
Salvatore didn't speak immediately. He pulled a silver cigarette case from his pocket, lit a thin cigar, and took a slow drag, the amber ember illuminating his dark, harsh features.
"You abandoned your wife," Salvatore said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "You left a seven-year-old child to sleep in church basements and eat expired bread from bakery trash bins while you hid in gambling dens."
"I... I was desperate!" Julian sobbed, tears cutting lines through the soot on his cheeks. "I made bad bets! Moretti threatened to break my legs!"
Salvatore leaned down until his eyes were level with Julian’s.
"A real man breaks his own legs before he lets his child starve," Salvatore growled, his words hitting Julian like physical blows. "You sold your daughter's future for a handful of poker chips."
Salvatore stood up straight and gestured to Marco.
"Cut his ropes," Salvatore ordered.
Julian fell forward onto his hands and knees, weeping with relief. "Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Costa! I'll leave the city! I'll never come back!"
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"You're not leaving the city yet, Julian," Salvatore said, turning his back on him. "You are going straight to the Police Headquarters downtown. You are going to sign a full confession detailing every illegal loan, every forged document, and every threat Paul Moretti made against Elena. If you miss a single detail, Marco will find you. And Marco isn't as patient as I am."
"I'll sign anything!" Julian squealed, scrambling to his feet under Marco's heavy grip. "I'll sign everything!"
