Chapter 6 - The Trap at Pier 4
While the estate adjusted to its new reality, the criminal underworld of Boston was boiling over.
Down at Pier 4 in the South Boston naval yard, Grant Keller stood beneath the flickering sodium lights of a private warehouse, staring down at a tied-up informant trembling on the concrete floor.
"I'm telling you, Keller!" the informant screamed, blood trickling from his split lip. "The O’Connors aren't just trying to muscle in on your shipping lanes! They’re planning an inside job! Someone high up in Romano’s organization sold out the patrol schedules!"
Grant crouched down, his face carved from ice. "Who?"
"I don't know names! Just that the payout was wired through an offshore account registered under a shell company in the Caymans. They’re hitting the main summit this Sunday!"
Grant stood up abruptly, pulling out his encrypted satellite phone. He dialed Vincent’s direct line.
"Boss," Grant said the moment the call connected. "We have a leak. The O’Connors know about the Sunday summit at your mother's townhouse. It was an inside job."
On the other end of the line, there was a heavy, chilling pause.
"Who?" Vincent’s voice was dangerously quiet.
"We’re still tracing the wire, but Vincent... Sunday dinner isn't just a social call anymore. It’s a setup."
Vincent looked through the glass doors of his office out toward the garden, where Claire and Rosie were chasing butterflies near the fountain. A knot of pure dread tightened in his stomach. The rivals weren't just targeting his business empire anymore; they were coming for the people he was starting to let into his heart.
"Cancel the summit," Vincent ordered. "Move Mother to a safehouse immediately."
"She won't move, Boss. You know how she is. She says if we run, they win."
Vincent exhaled slowly, his grip on the phone tightening until his knuckles turned white. "Then we don't run. We lay a trap of our own."
"And Claire and Rosie?" Grant asked hesitantly. "Do we keep them at the estate?"
May you like
Vincent stared at Rosie laughing as she caught a butterfly in her small hands. The memory of the bullet piercing the hallway wall flashed in his mind.
"No," Vincent said with absolute finality. "They come with us. If the O’Connors want a war, they’ll have to get through me first."
