Chapter 5 - The Shadow of the Past
The docks of South Brooklyn smelled of salt, rusted iron, and gasoline.
Under the gray afternoon sky, four black armored SUVs sat parked in a semi-circle inside a massive, dimly lit shipping warehouse. Twenty heavily armed men stood in the shadows, their hands resting on automatic weapons, watching every movement with cold, professional paranoia.
Dominic Russo stood in the center of the warehouse, his charcoal coat back on, staring down at a man kneeling on the wet concrete floor before him.
The man was Anthony Moretti, a mid-level lieutenant from a rival syndicate who had been caught trying to breach the security encryption of Russo’s logistics network. His face was bruised, his nose bleeding onto his white silk shirt.
"I'm going to ask you once, Anthony," Dominic said, his voice smooth, quiet, and completely devoid of mercy. "Who gave you the access codes to my East Coast shipping lines?"
Anthony spat blood onto the concrete, glaring up at Dominic with bitter hatred. "Fuck you, Russo. You think you own this city? Your family is weak! Ever since your wife went up in smoke, you've been running around like a coward, hiding in your mansion with your mute bastards!"
A heavy silence descended over the warehouse.
Marco stepped forward, reaching for his weapon, but Dominic held up a single, calm hand, stopping him.
Dominic stepped closer to Anthony. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't display anger. He leaned down, placing a cold, heavy hand on Anthony’s shoulder, squeezing until the cartilage groaned beneath the pressure.
"My daughters," Dominic whispered softly into the man's ear, "are alive. Their mother is in heaven. But you... you are standing in a cemetery right now, Anthony. You just haven't realized it yet."
Anthony’s arrogant expression shattered into absolute, blinding terror as he looked into Dominic’s pitch-black eyes. He saw no humanity left in the Don—only a cold, relentless void.
"Wait! Wait!" Anthony stammered, his voice breaking into a desperate scream. "It was Marcone! Marcone paid for the codes! He’s planning something bigger, Russo! He knows about the house! He knows about the new girl!"
Dominic’s grip on Anthony’s shoulder went deathly still.
The new girl.
"What did you say?" Dominic asked, his voice dropping into an icy whisper.
"Marcone’s got eyes on your estate!" Anthony babbled, tears mixing with the blood on his face. "He knows you hired a new caretaker for the kids! He knows she goes into town on Thursdays to get special art supplies for them! He’s going to take her to force you into giving up the docks!"
Dominic’s world tilted.
Thursdays.
Today was Thursday.
Dominic pulled his satellite phone from his pocket with blinding speed, speed dialling the estate’s private security line.
The line rang once. Twice. Three times.
“Boss,” Marco’s lead guard at the estate, Frankie, finally answered, his voice sounding static-filled.
"Frankie," Dominic growled, turning toward his SUV. "Where is Miss Vasquez?"
There was a brief pause on the line. “She... she left twenty minutes ago with the girls, boss. To the community art center in town. You said she was allowed out with the security detail—”
"Who is driving the lead car?!" Dominic roared, sprinting toward his vehicle, his men scattering to follow him.
May you like
“Gino and Paulie, sir—”
"Gino is a rat!" Dominic shouted, jumping into the passenger seat of his SUV as Marco slammed his foot on the accelerator, the tires screaming against the concrete floor. "Intercept them now! Block the north road! If a single scratch touches them, I will burn this city to the ground!"
