Chapter 4 - Blood on the CobblestonesAt 2:15 AM, deep beneath the Beacon Hill mansion, the air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and burning charcoal.
The basement—a labyrinth of reinforced brick and iron security doors that local authorities pretended didn't exist—was dead silent except for the rhythmic dripping of an overhead pipe.
Two men were tied securely to heavy wooden chairs beneath the harsh glare of a single overhead bulb. Their faces were bruised, their expensive leather jackets torn, and their breathing came in ragged, panicked gasps. They were foot soldiers for Jimmy "The Hammer" Falcone, a mid-level rival trying to muscle in on Callum’s dock expansions.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the stone stairs.
Callum walked into the light, rolling up his sleeves another fold. Behind him came Marcus, carrying a heavy iron wrench, and Dante, holding a digital tablet displaying the contents of Maeve's emptied purse—including her mother’s silver ring.
Callum stopped in front of the two men. He didn't look angry. He looked clinical, like an auditor reviewing a failing ledger.
"Which one of you touched her?" Callum asked softly.
The larger of the two men, a burly enforcer with a broken nose named Sal, spat blood onto the concrete. "Listen, Vale, we didn't know she worked for you! Falcone said some girl was carrying documents from the shipping office, we thought—"
Callum’s fist moved so fast the air cracked.
The punch landed squarely on Sal’s jaw, snapping the chair legs back and sending him crashing hard onto the stone floor. The second man shrieked, thrashing wildly against his ropes.
Callum slowly straightened up, wiping a speck of blood from his knuckles with a pristine white handkerchief.
"Falcone thinks he can send his junkies to rob women on my streets," Callum said, his voice dangerously low. He turned to Dante. "How many container shipments does Falcone have coming into Port South tomorrow?"
"Three, boss. Electronics and luxury imports," Dante replied, tapping his tablet.
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"Intercept all of them. Burn the warehouses. Tell the union foremen that anyone associated with Falcone as of five minutes ago is permanently blacklisted from Boston Harbor." Callum turned his cold, dead gaze back to the terrified men on the floor. "And tell Jimmy that if he wants his cargo back, he can come down here and ask me himself. But he better bring a casket for each of his teeth."
Marcus grinned grimly, cracking his knuckles. "Consider it done, boss."
