Chapter 8 - The Syndicate BurnsThe West End docks looked like a war zone.
Black smoke billowed into the midnight sky, obscuring the pale moonlight as three massive warehouses belonging to Victor Vance’s smuggling ring burned down to their charred foundations. Sirens wailed in the distance, but the fire trucks couldn't get through—every access road had been systematically blocked by heavy Rinaldi construction equipment.
Victor Vance stood on the concrete pier, his expensive silk suit stained with soot and his face twisted in absolute fury.
"Rinaldi!" Vance roared, as Dominic stepped out from the shadows of a towering shipping container, flanked by Marcus Thorne and a dozen armed men.
Dominic walked slowly, his hands in his coat pockets, his expression as calm as a frozen lake.
"You burned my entire livelihood over a diner, Dominic?!" Vance screamed, stepping forward before one of Marcus’s men raised a warning pistol. "You're declaring a war that's going to tear this entire city apart!"
Dominic stopped ten feet away from his rival. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"You didn't lose your livelihood, Victor," Dominic said softly. "You lost your illusion of control."
"You think you're untouchable?" Vance spat, laughing hysterically. "The police have your books! The federal task force has—"
"The federal task force has Curtis Pike's revised statements," Dominic interrupted smoothly. "Which conveniently show that every illegal shipment on these docks for the last three years belonged exclusively to Victor Vance, while the Rinaldi organization was merely conducting independent security audits."
Vance’s laughter died instantly in his throat. His face turned an ash-gray. "You... you framed me with my own ledger."
"I simply corrected the filing errors," Dominic said coldly.
He turned to Marcus. "Take him. Hand him over to the federal marshals waiting at the perimeter gate. Let them see what happens to men who think human lives are disposable."
As Marcus and his men grabbed Vance, dragging his screaming, cursing form away toward the flashing red lights of the federal cruisers, Dominic stood alone on the pier, watching the black smoke rise against the stars.
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The Rinaldi empire was changing. The old ways—the fear, the cruelty, the cold indifference—were burning away in the fire.
And for the first time in his life, Dominic felt like he was building something that would actually last.
