Chapter 5 - THE FIRE AT MILWAUKEE DEPOTThe Milwaukee rail depot was the crown jewel of the Northern Corridor Alliance—a massive, half-mile-long concrete terminal where freight cars loaded with smuggled contraband, untaxed electronics, and black-market pharmaceuticals were processed daily.
By midnight, it was a war zone.
There were no explosions that could be heard by the civilian suburbs—Dante Moretti believed in efficiency, not chaos. Instead, the takeover was executed with military precision.
Within ninety minutes, Moretti's elite strike teams had disabled the terminal's digital surveillance grid, neutralized the fifty armed guards patrolling the perimeter without firing a single stray shot, and locked down every exit.
Dante walked through the cavernous concrete terminal, his heavy boots echoing off the corrugated metal walls. Sal Mercer walked beside him, carrying a encrypted satellite phone.
"The federal accounts in Zurich are frozen," Sal reported, checking his screen. "Everett Cross’s primary slush fund is gone. The state police won't answer his calls—their precinct commanders received their retirement packages early this morning."
"And Everett himself?" Dante asked.
"He's barricaded inside his private estate in the northern suburbs," Sal said. "He knows the empire is gone, Dante. He's finished."
Dante stopped walking, looking out across the vast, silent rail yards where dozens of empty freight cars sat waiting for orders that would never come.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a text message from Vivienne:
Dr. Hale says Leo ate his entire bottle of carrots and threw up on his favorite blue blanket. He sends his regards.
May you like
A slow, genuine smile spread across Dante’s face—the first real smile he had worn in years.
He replied: Tell him the blue blanket can be replaced. I'm coming home.
