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Chapter 11 - The Detroit Retaliation

The shattered glass from the New Jersey docks warehouse had barely been swept away when the shockwaves hit the inner sanctum of the Moretti empire. Two days after Dominic’s warning to Sal, a black sedan crawled past Corven Tower at midnight, firing a high-caliber burst into the reinforced glass of the private security checkpoint. No one was injured, but the message was written in lead and fear: the Detroit syndicate refused to bend.

Marco stormed into Dominic’s subterranean armory, slamming a ballistic report onto the steel workbench. "They’re hitting our secondary freight lines in Ohio and Pennsylvania, Boss. They think your focus is entirely split because of the girls. They’re testing the perimeter to see if the Don has gone soft."

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Dominic stood under the harsh fluorescent lights, stripping down his personal sidearm with rhythmic, mechanical precision. Every spring, pin, and barrel was wiped clean. His face was an emotionless mask of glacial fury.

"They think domestic peace means military vulnerability," Dominic said softly, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "They want a war on open ground? Give them a war they can see from space. Mobilize every caporegime from Chicago to the Atlantic coast. We aren't just going to push them back into Detroit. We are going to burn their entire distribution network to ash before the weekend is over."

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