Chapter 6 - The Battle of the Docks
The Chicago shipping docks were silent under a heavy morning fog. The scent of salt, rust, and rotting wood hung thick in the air.
Declan stood on the deck of a massive cargo ship, his dark overcoat fluttering in the cold wind. Behind him stood Marcus and twenty heavily armed men, their faces hidden behind black tactical masks.
Across the concrete pier, another group of men stood waiting. At their head was Thomas Voss, Declan’s cousin and his father’s most loyal lieutenant.
"Declan," Thomas called out, his voice echoing in the empty shipyard. "Your father told me you might show up. He said you’ve lost your mind over some woman and her kids."
"My father is living in the past, Thomas," Declan replied, stepping down the metal gangway onto the concrete pier. "This shipment belongs to the family trust. And as the Managing Director of Voss Enterprises, I am freezing the assets."
Thomas laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You can't freeze anything, Declan. The port authority belongs to Viktor. The guards belong to Viktor. You are outnumbered."
As if on cue, thirty more men stepped out from behind the shipping containers, their weapons aimed directly at Declan and his team.
"Drop your weapons, Declan," Thomas said, his hand resting on his pistol. "Your father wants you brought to the estate. He says he’ll let the woman and the kids go if you sign over your shares of the company."
Declan didn't move. He looked at the men surrounding him. Many of them were young, their faces pale with hesitation. They knew who Declan was—they had seen him lead them through the turf wars of the last decade. They knew he was a fairer, more calculating leader than the ruthless Viktor.
"Men," Declan called out, his voice clear and commanding. "My father is eighty years old. He is ready to destroy this entire syndicate to protect his pride. If you stand with him today, you will die for a man who doesn't even know your names. If you stand with me, your salaries are doubled, your families are protected, and the war ends today."
A tense, suffocating silence fell over the docks.
Thomas looked around, his eyes wide with rising panic. "Don't listen to him! Shoot him! That’s an order!"
Nobody moved.
One of the guards in the front row slowly lowered his rifle. Then another. Within seconds, half of Thomas’s men had stepped back, their weapons pointed at the ground.
"You bastards!" Thomas screamed, pulling his pistol.
Before he could raise it, Marcus fired. A single, echoing shot cracked through the fog. Thomas fell to the concrete, clutching his thigh, groaning in pain.
Declan walked over to him, looking down at his cousin with a cold, detached pity.
May you like
"Take him to the hospital," Declan ordered his men. "And secure the shipment. Tell Richard Hartwell that his distribution lines are open, under new management."
Declan turned and walked back toward his car. The first move was his. But he knew his father would not go quietly.
