Chapter 16 - The Dragon’s LairThe private shipping terminal at Pier 42 was shrouded in thick, sulfurous fog rolling in off the dark Atlantic.
Edmund’s armored Maybach smashed through the locked iron security gates, its heavy grill scattering chain-link fence like paper as it slid to a halt in front of the main warehouse. The doors flew open in unison.
Edmund stepped out first, followed by Vivien and Tommy, flanked by twenty of their most elite enforcers.
Inside the cavernous warehouse, crates stacked ten tiers high stretched out into the gloom. At the center of the loading bay stood Arthur Wu, flanked by half a dozen armed guards and two men holding heavy assault rifles.
"You have a terrible habit of showing up where you aren't wanted, Costa," Wu called out, his voice echoing off the corrugated tin roof. He stepped forward, gesturing to a bound figure kneeling in the dirt near his feet.
Edmund’s eyes flicked to the kneeling figure.
It was Carmine Vale—bruised, bleeding, and tied securely to a wooden chair with heavy industrial zip-ties.
"You thought you won by locking him in the vestry," Wu sneered, tapping his ivory cane against the concrete. "Carmine was just a delivery boy for my operation. And now, your little empire ends right here on the docks."
Vivien stepped past Edmund, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete floor. She walked right up to Wu, completely unfazed by the weapons pointed at her chest.
"Arthur," she said smoothly, tilting her head. "Did you really think a man who lost two cargo ships in Macau knew how to run an international syndicate?"
Wu’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you talking about?"
Vivien pulled the silver flash drive from her pocket and held it up where the warehouse lights caught the metal casing.
"I'm talking about your entire digital portfolio," she smiled coldly. "Every offshore account, every bribe ledger, and every routing number tied to your smuggling ring. It was sitting in the penthouse server room. And as of two minutes ago, it was automatically forwarded to the international banking commission and Interpol."
Wu’s face drained of color. The ivory cane slipped slightly in his grip.
"You... you bitch," he hissed, lunging forward with a hidden blade drawn from his sleeve—
Before Wu could take two steps, Edmund’s pistol cracked once.
May you like
The bullet struck the concrete an inch from Wu’s shoe, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"Touch her," Edmund said, his voice dropping into a tone so cold it froze the air in the room, "and I won't wait for Interpol."
