Chapter 6 - The Arrival of the Loyalists
Two massive black SUVs, their high beams cutting through the river mist, crashed directly through the chain-link perimeter fence of the upper warehouse lot.
"CLEAR THE PIER!" a booming voice echoed through a megaphone.
It was Dr. Richard Hale.
Beside the veterinarian stood dozens of heavily armed men wearing traditional Moretti family crests on their jackets—the old guard, the veteran soldiers who had served under Alessandro's late brother sixteen years ago.
"The Loyalists..." Marco gasped, a huge grin breaking across his bloody face. "They got the emergency signal!"
The old guard opened fire on Victor’s mercenaries on the catwalks with overwhelming, lethal force. Within seconds, the upper level was silenced, the remaining traitors either surrendering or fleeing into the dark industrial zone.
A tall, grey-haired man stepped down from the lead SUV, carrying a heavy tactical rifle. It was Dominic Vance—Victor’s younger brother, a man who had retired from syndicate affairs ten years ago to run a legitimate maritime shipping business.
Dominic walked down the wooden pier steps, his face pale with rage and sorrow. He looked at the bodies on the ground, then down at Alessandro.
"Alessandro," Dominic said, bowing his head deeply. "Forgive us. We didn't know what my brother was planning. When Richard called us and told us Victor had attacked the estate..."
"Where is Victor?" Alessandro asked, stepping forward, his chest heaving.
"He fled the compound in an armored sedan ten minutes ago," Dominic reported grimly. "He’s heading toward the downtown financial district. He’s trying to clear the syndicate’s offshore holding accounts before the sun comes up."
Alessandro looked down at Bruno.
Dr. Richard Hale was already kneeling beside the dog on the pier, opening his heavy veterinary trauma kit.
"Is he going to live, Richard?" Alessandro asked, his voice tighter than it had ever been during a firefight.
Richard quickly applied an antiseptic pressure bandage to Bruno’s shoulder, then administered a heavy dose of fast-acting pain medication and anti-inflammatories directly into the dog's thigh joint.
"He’s tough, Alessandro," Richard said, looking up with a small, reassuring smile. "The bullet missed the bone. He’s suffering from extreme physical exhaustion and severe shock, but... he's not dying tonight."
Emma peeked her head out from the boat cabin, her little boots clicking on the wet deck as she ran toward the veterinarian. "Doctor fixed him?"
Richard smiled softly, reaching out to pat the little girl’s head. "Doctor fixed him, tiny boss. He just needs a very long nap."
Emma dropped to her knees, leaning her forehead against Bruno’s snout. The dog let out a soft, warm sigh, his eye fluttering shut as the pain medication took hold.
Alessandro turned back to Dominic and the assembled Loyalist commanders.
"Gather the full council," Alessandro ordered, his voice dropping into a tone of terrifying, absolute authority that made every veteran soldier on the pier stand up straight. "Call the captains from New York, Detroit, and St. Louis. Tell them the Moretti empire is under new management."
"And Victor?" Dominic asked.
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Alessandro looked at Emma, who was softly humming a lullaby to the sleeping dog on the wooden pier.
"Victor stole sixteen years from this family," Alessandro said, his grey eyes flashing like cold steel. "He took my brother. He took my niece's childhood. And he tried to murder the dog that protected her. He doesn't get to leave Chicago alive."
