Chapter 7 - BLOOD ON THE DOCKSBefore Dante could scream an order, the dark harbor erupted into blinding light.
Massive industrial floodlights attached to surrounding cranes snapped on, washing the pier in a harsh, inescapable white glare.
"AMBUSH!" Dante screamed, diving behind an SUV as gunshots shattered the night silence.
From behind surrounding shipping containers, dozens of Starks enforcers stepped into view, weapons raised. The noise was deafening—heavy tactical fire tore through the black SUVs, shattering glass, puncturing tires, and ripping through metal.
Dante’s men tried to return fire, but they were completely exposed, pinned down in the open on the concrete apron. One by one, Dante’s lieutenants fell beneath the overwhelming barrage.
"Dante!"
The roar came from the far side of the pier.
Dante peeked around the smoking tire of his vehicle, his face covered in soot and blood. Walking slowly through the fog, completely unbothered by the gunfire around him, was Rory Starks. In his right hand, he held a dark custom pistol. Behind him walked Dominic, laying down suppression fire with a heavy shotgun.
"You brought my family into this," Rory said, his voice carrying clearly over the fading pops of gunfire. "You put a machine in my daughters' bed. You made them suffer for two months."
Dante scrambled backward toward the edge of the wooden pier, pulling a snub-nosed revolver from his jacket, his hands shaking violently. "Rory! Wait! It was business! It was just business! It was Susan's idea!"
"My sister is a fool," Rory growled, stepping up to Dante and casually kicking the revolver out of his hand. The gun splashed harmlessly into the dark, filthy water below. "But you... you knew what you were doing."
Rory reached down, grabbed Dante by his designer lapels, and dragged him to his feet. He forced Dante to face the open shipping container, where the gutted teddy bear sat under the harsh spotlight.
"Look at it, Dante," Rory commanded, pressing the warm barrel of his gun against Dante’s temple. "That’s what you left for six-year-old girls."
"Please, Rory! I'll give you everything! My docks, my money, my contacts—"
"I don't want your money," Rory whispered in his ear. "I want my daughters to sleep."
A single shot echoed across the quiet harbor.
Dante Moretti went limp, collapsing onto the damp concrete.
Rory lowered his weapon, taking a slow, deep breath of the cold ocean air. He pulled his satellite phone from his pocket and pressed speed dial.
"Elena," Rory said softly.
May you like
In the surveillance van two miles away, Veronica let out a long breath she felt like she’d been holding for months. "I heard," she said. "Is it over?"
"It’s over," Rory replied. "Come to the pier. It's time to settle up."
