Chapter 6 - Blood on the DocksThe night air at Pier 42 tasted of salt, diesel, and rot.
The derelict shipyard stood like a skeletal monument against the black ocean waves crashing against the concrete bulkheads. Inside warehouse number 7, a single halogen light hummed loudly above a makeshift command desk surrounded by computer monitors and armed mercenaries.
Mateo Garcia—a tall, arrogant man with slicked-back dark hair and a permanent sneer—sat smoking a cigar, watching the countdown timer on his laptop screen.
“Three hours until sunrise,” Mateo laughed, blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “By eight o’clock, Vincent Moretti’s empire will be seized by federal marshals, his wife will be committed to a psychiatric facility, and his baby boy will be handed over to state custody. My father’s vengeance will finally be complete.”
“Are you sure Evelyn won’t crack under pressure?” one of his lieutenants asked nervously.
“Evelyn is a greedy, narcissistic coward,” Mateo scoffed, tapping his ash into a metal tray. “She cares about nothing except money. Once we promised her a slice of the Moretti estate, she would have poisoned her own grandmother.”
“She’s not the only one who likes promises, Mateo,” a cold, deep voice echoed from the shadows near the entrance of the warehouse.
Mateo froze mid-laugh. The cigar nearly slipped from his fingers.
From the darkness of the cavernous doorway, I stepped into the harsh halogen light, my hands casually tucked into my pockets. Behind me, three massive, heavily armored tactical guards stepped in, their assault rifles raised and locked silently onto Mateo’s men.
“What the—?!” Mateo shrieked, jumping up from his chair. “How did you find this place?! Where are my guards outside?!”
“Your guards outside are currently taking a very permanent nap in the trunk of their own patrol cars,” Marcus said smoothly, stepping out beside me and casually tossing a bloodied tactical radio onto Mateo’s desk.
Mateo’s face turned the color of chalk. He grabbed for the pistol resting on the desk, but before his fingers could even brush the grip, my pistol was drawn, leveled, and firing.
Thwack!
The silenced bullet pierced the wooden desk a millimeter from Mateo’s fingertips, splintering the wood and sending splinters flying into his palm.
Mateo shrieked, snatching his hand back and holding his bleeding fingers. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
“You have a very bad habit of interrupting my family life, Mateo,” I said, walking slowly across the concrete floor, my boots echoing like death bells in the silent warehouse. I stopped right in front of his desk, leaning down until our faces were inches apart.
“You… you shouldn’t be here,” Mateo stammered, sweating profusely. “The federal warrants… they’re already scheduled to drop at 8:00 AM! If you kill me, the system will still destroy you!”
“System?” I chuckled coldly. “Mateo, I am the system in this city.”
I reached down, grabbed him by the expensive collar of his silk shirt, and hoisted him entirely off his feet, slamming him hard against the brick wall behind the desk. His mercenaries watched in absolute terror, not daring to raise a single weapon with three laser sights painted dead-center on their foreheads.
“You thought you could use my mother-in-law to poison my wife?” I hissed into his ear, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “You thought you could threaten my infant son?”
“I… I was just finishing what my father started!” Mateo gasped, clawing desperately at my wrists.
“Your father was a fool, and you’re an even bigger one,” I whispered. “Here is what’s going to happen right now, Mateo. You are going to log into your syndicate’s secure server, recall every single forged document, drop all pending federal complaints, and transfer every cent of those black-market loans into a humanitarian charity account of my choosing.”
“And if I refuse?” Mateo choked out, his eyes bulging.
I pulled out my phone, unlocked the screen, and played an audio recording.
It was Evelyn’s voice, screaming in the East Wing holding cell: “Mateo! Mateo, help me! They’re going to throw me in prison forever! You promised you’d protect me!”
Mateo’s eyes widened in horror. “You… you recorded her?”
“Evelyn just gave a full confession to my security detail,” I said smoothly. “She spilled every name, every bank account, and every encrypted chat log tying your syndicate to this conspiracy. The moment I upload this file to the Director of the FBI—who happens to owe me three very large favors—your entire organization will be raided before breakfast.”
May you like
I pressed the barrel of my gun firmly against his forehead.
“You have five seconds to decide whether you want to spend the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security supermax prison, or if you want to bleed out right here on this cold concrete floor.”
