Chapter 13 - Public Execution of Power
The steps of Harbor City Hall were packed with hundreds of reporters, flashing cameras, news vans, and curious citizens by 8:00 AM. News of the Pier 42 disaster had shaken the entire metropolis. Speculation was rampant that the legendary Moretti reign was collapsing under a fresh wave of gang violence.
Claire stepped out from the brass doors of City Hall, flanked by four plainclothes security officers and her father, Richard Cole. She wore a tailored charcoal-grey suit, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek, flawless ponytail. She looked calm, powerful, and utterly unfazed by the sea of flashing cameras.
She stepped up to the podium. Microphones bristled toward her like cold iron spears.
"Good morning," Claire began, her voice ringing clear and authoritative through the high-powered speaker system. "Last night, cowardly criminals attacked Pier 42. They destroyed medicine meant for sick children and supplies meant for struggling families. They believed that by burning wood and steel, they could restore terror to Harbor City."
She leaned closer into the microphones, staring directly into the main network camera lens—staring directly at Dante Vane, wherever he was watching.
"They were wrong," Claire declared. "The Moretti Foundation is not a building. It is the people of this city. Effective immediately, we are doubling our logistics operations using backup warehouses at Pier 12. Furthermore, the Cole Legal Group and the Moretti Estate are placing a twenty-million-dollar bounty on the arrest and conviction of Dante Vane and any associate offering him safe harbor."
The crowd of journalists gasped. Questions were shouted out in a chaotic roar.
"Mrs. Moretti! Is your husband planning a violent retaliation?" a reporter screamed out.
"My husband is working within the law to protect this community," Claire replied with a smooth, deadly smile. "And to Mr. Dante Vane, listening right now: your bank accounts in Panama and the Cayman Islands were frozen twenty minutes ago by federal court order. You are broke, you are hunted, and your time in my city is over."
At that exact moment, five miles away in the subterranean darkness of the Sector 4 Cold Storage facility, Dante Vane smashed a glass whiskey bottle against a broad casting monitor.
"Bitch!" Dante roared, his heavily scarred face contorting in rage. He was a broad-shouldered man with silver hair cut down to the scalp and cold, yellowed eyes. "She thinks she can freeze my accounts? Move the girl! We kill Arthur's daughter now and leave her body on the steps of her foundation!"
"I wouldn't recommend that," a dark, gravelly voice echoed from the shadows of the doorway.
Dante whirled around, drawing a high-caliber pistol from his shoulder holster.
Out of the gloom stepped Gabriel Moretti. He wore black tactical armor over his dress shirt, carrying a silenced firearm. Beside him stood Marco and six elite operatives.
"Gabriel..." Dante hissed, his eyes widening. "How... how did you find this level? The surveillance cameras outside didn't ping!"
"You were so busy watching my wife on television that you forgot to watch your back," Gabriel said coldly.
Before Dante could pull the trigger, Gabriel moved with blinding, terrifying speed. He closed the distance, grabbed Dante’s wrist, twisted it back until the bone snapped with a sickening crack, and disarmed him in a single fluid motion.
Dante screamed in agony, falling to his knees. Gabriel kicked him violently in the chest, sending him crashing into a stack of wooden crates.
Marco rushed into the adjacent holding room, breaching the door with a shotgun blast. Seconds later, Marco emerged supporting a bruised, terrified young woman with tear-stained cheeks.
"Evelyn Price is secure, Boss," Marco reported. "She's unharmed."
Gabriel walked over to where Dante lay groaning on the concrete floor, coughing up blood. Gabriel pressed the hot barrel of his sidearm directly against Dante’s forehead.
"You threatened my wife," Gabriel whispered, his voice trembling with a dark, primal rage. "You burned a warehouse meant for children. Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your brains across this floor."
Dante spat blood onto Gabriel’s boot, grinning maniacally despite his broken wrist. "Go ahead, Moretti! Kill me! But you think I’m the mastermind? I’m just a mercenary! The real power... the people who funded my return... they're already inside your home!"
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Gabriel’s heart stopped. He grabbed Dante by the collar, dragging him up. "What did you say?"
"The gala... the foundation..." Dante wheezed, laughing morbidly. "You thought Victor Vance was the only old boss left? The syndicate board never died, Gabriel. We spent six months buying your foundation's board members. While you were down here saving the girl... your precious Claire is walking into a trap at City Hall!"
