Chapter 7 - The Assault on Pier 42Midnight at Pier 42 was a cacophony of screeching seagulls, crashing waves, and the low hum of industrial container cranes.
The Atlas Shipping Warehouse stood like a dark concrete fortress against the dark waters of the East River.
Suddenly, the compound’s exterior security lights flickered once and died.
Before the guards stationed at the loading dock could raise their submachine guns, a series of silenced muzzle flashes erupted from the shadows. Three Maroni enforcers dropped silently to the wet concrete without firing a single shot.
Dominic Moretti stepped out of the darkness, his tactical vest fitted over his suit, a customized SIG Sauer in his right hand. Behind him, Bruno and twenty elite Moretti enforcers moved like ghosts through the warehouse breezeway.
"Clear," Bruno whispered into his comms unit.
Dominic breached the reinforced side office door with a swift kick, stepping into the dimly lit command center where three Maroni accountants were frantically feeding shredded paper into industrial burn bins.
"Stop right there," Dominic ordered.
The accountants froze, hands shooting into the air as Bruno and his men swarmed the room, securing hard drives, encryption keys, and paper ledgers.
At that moment, a heavy steel door at the back of the office flew open.
Vincent Rossi—still bandaged from his concussion at the Brooklyn apartment—stumbled out holding a heavy caliber revolver, his eyes wild with desperate fury.
"Moretti!" Vincent screamed, raising his weapon.
BANG!
Dominic fired first, a single, flawless round striking Vincent’s weapon hand and sending the revolver clattering across the tile floor. Vincent shrieked, clutching his bleeding wrist as Bruno tackled him hard against the desk, snapping heavy steel zip-ties around his wrists.
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Dominic walked slowly toward the trembling Maroni lieutenant, standing over him like an executioner.
"You thought you could bury me with my own grief," Dominic said quietly, his voice dangerously low. "You miscalculated."
