Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Terminal
Two weeks later, the friction between the old syndicate factions and Dante’s corporate modernization reached a boiling point.
It was 9:00 PM when Reed burst into Dante’s private study, holding a secure burner phone.
“Boss, we have an intercept on Vincent Moretti’s private comms,” Reed said, his face grim. “He’s not going through the unions. He knows he’s getting squeezed out by federal labor probes, so he’s doing something stupid.”
Dante looked up from a financial prospectus. “What kind of stupid?”
“He knows about Maya Santos.”
Dante’s entire body went rigid. The air in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. “Explain.”
“Vincent’s men tracked her hospital visits. They know you paid her bills and supplied her daughter with the seized biologics,” Reed said rapidly. “An hour ago, one of Vincent’s enforcers snatched Maya’s mother outside their apartment in Queens. They’re holding both of them—the mother and little Lily Rose—at an abandoned cold-storage facility down near Pier Twelve. Vincent wants to use them as leverage to force you to sign over the Brooklyn shipping terminals and clear his brother’s name.”
For a fraction of a second, the cold, calculated armor Dante wore cracked. A wave of pure, unadulterated fury surged through his veins—hot, violent, and absolute.
“Get the tactical teams ready,” Dante said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. “Every man we have in the city. Mobilize now.”
“Dante, it’s a trap,” Reed warned. “Pier Twelve is a concrete labyrinth. Vincent knows we’re coming. If we storm it without a clean approach, hostages get hurt.”
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“Then we don't storm it,” Dante replied, standing up and sliding a suppressed Sig Sauer into his shoulder holster beneath his jacket. “We dismantle it from the inside out.”
Within twenty minutes, three unmarked black SUVs tore through the rainy streets of Manhattan, heading south toward the darkened industrial expanse of the Brooklyn waterfront.
