Chapter 4 - THE SKELETONS OF PIER 4The abandoned naval shipyard at Pier 4 was a rusted labyrinth of crane towers, rotting wooden docks, and corrugated metal warehouses lashed by the freezing Mediterranean wind. It was deep inside Moretti territory, meaning any move Vittorio made here would be treated as an act of outright war. But Vittorio Amato didn't care about syndicate boundaries tonight. He cared about a terrified little boy named Leo waiting back at his villa.
"Rocco, cut the power to the main grid of the warehouse sector," Vittorio whispered into his tactical comms as they crouched behind a stack of rusted shipping containers. "I want total darkness. No alarms, no chatter. Just clean execution."
A minute later, the humming generators across the pier sputtered and died. The entire waterfront plunged into pitch-black shadow, illuminated only by the pale moonlight cutting through the skeletal framework of the cranes.
Inside Warehouse B, however, lights were still flickering from a backup diesel generator.
Vittorio signaled his men forward. Moving with silent, lethal precision, Rocco used a silenced hydraulic cutter to slice through the rusted padlock of the side personnel door. The heavy metal door swung open with a faint, groaning squeak.
Inside, the warehouse smelled of damp concrete, stale cigarette smoke, and fear.
Tied securely to a heavy metal chair in the center of the vast, open-bay room sat Elena Conti. Her dark hair was disheveled, her cheeks stained with dried tears, and a thick strip of duct tape was wrapped tightly over her mouth. She was bruised, shivering, but alive. Standing over her were three armed thugs wearing the insignia of the Moretti crime family, laughing as they smoked and tossed a small black USB flash drive back and forth between them.
"Boss is going to be pleased," one thug grunted, scratching his stubble. "Once we squeeze the decryption password out of her, we dump her body in the harbor. Nobody will ever look twice at a missing civilian."
Elena’s eyes widened in terror as she shook her head fiercely against the gag, tears spilling over her lower lashes.
Click.
The sound of a single pistol hammer cocking echoed sharply through the cavernous metal room like the crack of a whip.
"Drop the drive," a voice cut through the darkness from the shadows of the doorway—cold, absolute, and utterly terrifying.
The three thugs spun around in unison, reaching for their holsters. But they were already dead men walking.
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Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three precise, muffled shots rang out. Before their hands could even clear their leather, all three Moretti enforcers dropped instantly to the concrete floor, neutralized with clinical efficiency by Vittorio and his team.
