Chapter 2 - The Interrogation at the Docks
Rain poured over the industrial shipping docks of South Brooklyn, cold and unforgiving. Inside an abandoned salt warehouse, the air smelled of rust, diesel, and salt water.
Bianca Moretti sat tied to a heavy steel chair in the center of the concrete floor. Her silk white dress was ruined, covered in mud and red wine, her immaculate blonde hair matted to her face. Across from her, her father, Victor Moretti—a ruthless syndicate boss who had ruled the New Jersey waterfront for three decades—was forced to his knees by two of Dominic’s enforcers.
"You're insane, Dominic!" Victor spat, blood dripping from his split lip onto the wet concrete. "You break an alliance over a servant?! You kidnap my daughter from our own compound?! The Commission will put a price on your head by dawn!"
Dominic walked slowly out of the shadows, wearing a dark wool trench coat. He carried a velvet jewelry box in his gloved hand. He didn't look at Victor. He stopped in front of Bianca.
"The ring was custom-crafted in Geneva six months ago, wasn't it, Bianca?" Dominic asked calmly, opening the velvet box. Inside lay the platinum ring, its diamonds glittering under the harsh overhead bulb.
Bianca’s eyes darted frantically toward her father, a flash of genuine panic breaking through her arrogant mask. "I... I don't know what you're talking about! It was an accident! That fat pig jumped in front of me!"
Dominic reached down, taking Bianca’s chin in his gloved hand with enough pressure to bruise her skin. "The toxicity report came back an hour ago. The micro-grooves beneath the raw diamond settings were designed specifically to hold liquid neurotoxins. You didn't strike my mother because you were angry about wine on your dress. You targeted her because she knew about your family's secret shipments through Port Newark."
Victor Moretti’s eyes widened. "Dominic, listen to me—"
"Shut up, Victor," Dominic barked, his voice cutting through the cavernous warehouse like a gunshot. He released Bianca’s chin, pulling a silver syringe from his inner coat pocket. "Where is the counter-agent?"
"I don't have it!" Bianca screamed, her voice echoing off the corrugated metal walls. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
Dominic uncapped the syringe, stepping closer to Victor. "Your father knows. Victor, your daughter has eleven hours before the toxin in that maid's body kills her. If she dies, I inject this same toxin into Bianca's throat, and I will sit right here and watch her convulse just like Skyler did."
"You wouldn't," Victor breathed, terror finally creeping into his weathered face. "She's my only child!"
"And Carmela Rossi is my only mother," Dominic replied, his voice devoid of any human emotion. "And Skyler Gallagher is under the protection of the Rossi house. You have ten seconds to give me the location of the antidote, or I let my men handle your shipping docks with gasoline and thermite charges."
Victor looked at his terrified, sobbing daughter, then at Dominic’s eyes—eyes that held no bluff, no hesitation, only absolute, cold destruction.
"The safe..." Victor gasped out, collapsing forward against the cold floor. "The vault beneath the Newark chemical plant. The blue vial marked 'N-40'. It's in the top drawer. Just don't hurt her!"
Dominic turned to Mateo. "Take a team. Get the vial. Test it on a lab animal before bringing it to St. Jude’s."
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"Right away, Boss."
Dominic stepped back, looking down at Bianca. "You called her a pig," he murmured softly. "You thought because she was large, because she served food, because she wore an apron, her life had no value. You are going to stay in this chair until she opens her eyes. If she dies, you go into the river."
