Chapter 17 - The Collapse of the DragonWu froze, staring down at the smoking crater in the concrete beside his shoe. He slowly lowered his blade, his chest heaving with rage and sudden, crushing realization.
Around the warehouse, the red laser dots of Tommy’s sniper rifles flickered into existence across the chests of every single one of Wu’s guards.
"Drop your weapons," Tommy commanded from the overhead gantry, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "Or the next set of holes won't be in the floor."
One by one, Wu's men dropped their firearms, the heavy clatter of metal against concrete ringing out like falling dominoes.
Carmine Vale, still tied to the chair, let out a pathetic, whimpering sob. "Costa... please... I didn't know he was going to burn the docks... please..."
Edmund didn't even look at him. He walked past Wu, ignoring the syndicate boss entirely, and stopped in front of the trembling former capo.
"You broke the table, Carmine," Edmund said softly.
He raised the heavy grip of his pistol and brought it down hard across the side of Carmine’s head, sending the older man crashing sideways to the floor, unconscious before he even hit the concrete.
Edmund turned his attention back to Arthur Wu, who stood trembling in the center of the warehouse, his empire crumbling around him in a matter of seconds.
"You wanted my shipping lanes, Arthur?" Edmund asked, stepping closer until he towered over the syndicate leader. "You wanted my city? Take a good look around. There's nothing left for you here."
Wu spat a glob of blood onto the floor, glaring up with pure venom. "You think you've won, Costa? The Syndicate has a thousand heads. You cut off one, ten more will take its place."
"Let them come," Vivien stepped up beside Edmund, her hand sliding smoothly into his arm, anchoring them together like a single, unbreakable force. "We have the ledgers. We have the ports. And unlike you, we actually know how to manage an empire."
Tommy and his enforcers moved in, binding Wu and his remaining men with ruthless efficiency.
As the sirens began to wail in the distance—federal marshals and local authorities finally arriving to secure the docks—Edmund turned to Vivien.
"We need to get back," Edmund murmured, his fingers brushing against hers. "Our wedding reception is technically still ongoing."
May you like
Vivien laughed, a bright, genuine sound that cut through the darkness of the warehouse.
"Then let's go finish our dance, husband."
