Chapter 13 - Midnight at Pier 54
The rain drove down in sheets, turning the asphalt of Pier 54 into a slick, black mirror that reflected the neon orange glow of distant container cranes. An abandoned warehouse stood at the end of the pier, its rusted iron doors groaning rhythmically against the relentless coastal gale.
Maeve stepped out of a black armored SUV, her boots splashing through the puddles. She wore a heavy wool coat, her hands steady inside her pockets. She wasn't alone—shadows moved silently along the perimeter as Rocco’s newly retrained security detail took up tactical positions in the darkness.
"Step out of the shadows, Viktor," Maeve called out, her voice cutting cleanly through the howling wind. "You wanted a meeting. You have one."
A heavy sliding door groaned open, revealing Viktor Vance standing inside the dimly lit warehouse. He wasn't alone. Six heavily armed mercenaries flanked him, their assault rifles raised and ready. Viktor smiled, a cruel, predatory grin that revealed a gold-capped molar.
"Maeve Moretti," Viktor mocked, stepping forward into the rain. "The brilliant forensic accountant who thinks she can outsmart thirty years of organized crime with a spreadsheet and a corporate charter. Where is your uncle? Too cowardly to watch his empire get dismantled piece by piece?"
"I’m right here, Viktor," Rocco’s voice boomed from the darkness to the left.
May you like
Rocco stepped into the amber glow of a halogen floodlight, walking with absolute, terrifying stability. He didn't look like a retired old man; he looked like the executioner who had built the very docks they stood upon.
Viktor’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he caught himself, raising a hand to signal his gunmen. "Ah, the Lazarus of Brooklyn. Still pretending you can walk. Too bad your little magic trick ends tonight."
