Chapter 12 - Pandora’s BoxDante and two other enforcers stepped forward with industrial bolt cutters, slicing through the heavy steel locks securing the cargo container doors with loud, echoing cracks.
With a metallic screech of rusted hinges, the heavy doors swung wide open.
Inside the dark, damp interior sat a single wooden chair. Tied securely to the chair, gagged with heavy black tape, and bound at the wrists with zip-ties was a man in a blood-soaked security uniform.
Chloe gasped, instantly recognizing the uniform. It was one of the senior night-shift guards from Costa Manor—the one who had been stationed at the north perimeter gate twenty-four hours earlier.
"Marcus Vance wasn't working alone, Gabriel," Moretti said smoothly, taking a slow step forward. "The European council has been planting roots inside your organization for three years. We own your shipping lines, your financial backers, and half your security detail. You thought you cleaned house by getting rid of a low-level lawyer? You merely scratched the surface."
Gabriel didn't flinch. His dark eyes remained fixed on Moretti, though his jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. ⚽
"You think a few infiltrated guards give you the right to walk into my port?" Gabriel’s voice was lethal, quiet, and absolutely bone-chilling.
"They don't give us the right. They give us control," Moretti corrected coldly. "The council gives you forty-eight hours to hand over total operational control of the North American shipping network back to Palermo. If you refuse..." Moretti flicked his wrist toward the container.
One of Moretti’s hidden guards raised a silenced pistol and fired a single shot directly into the bound guard’s chest.
The man slumped forward, lifeless.
Chloe let out a sharp cry, instinctively stepping back into Gabriel’s protective embrace.
"That was just a reminder," Moretti said, turning his back and walking slowly toward his waiting limousine. "Forty-eight hours, Gabriel. Or everyone you love shares that container."
The black limousine sped away, leaving the pier dead silent, save for the howling wind off Lake Michigan.
Gabriel looked down at Chloe, his face carved from white-hot fury. "Get back in the SUV. We’re going to the North Side estate. Now."
"No," Chloe said quietly.
Gabriel froze, staring down at her in disbelief. "What did you say?"
"We are not running," Chloe said, her voice steady, ringing with an authority that left no room for argument. She reached into her canvas bag, unzipped a hidden interior pocket, and pulled out a heavy, encrypted satellite phone that didn't look anything like veterinary equipment. "Your council thinks you're isolated. They think you're alone. But they made one fatal mistake."
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Gabriel stared at the phone in her hand, his dark eyes widening in sudden, profound shock. "Where did you get that?"
"My mother doesn't live in Rockford, Gabriel," Chloe said, a strange, chilling calm washing over her features. "And my last name isn't Harper."
